


Flesh and Bone

by Kingfisherwoes



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bullying, Dark fic, Dark! Tony Stark, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter's 16 in this, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Drama, Set during/after Spider-Man Homecoming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingfisherwoes/pseuds/Kingfisherwoes
Summary: In the town of Forest Hills, Queens. Where the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man protects the city from all kinds of harm. Lived a boy who had radioactive DNA of a spider, and on his sixteenth year, he would realize that he didn't have a choice of staying with his family and friends. That someone he once looked up to was up to sinister things that would spiral them both down a vast rabbit hole.Or... an alternate universe where instead of Happy taking Peter upstate to the Avengers facility. Happy regretfully helps Tony kidnap Peter. Tony's been having weird dreams and thoughts that he just can't suppress anymore. He'll do anything to make sure Peter is safe even if that means keeping him from the outside world.This fiction is going to be very dark, exploring mental disorders. I'll be posting before each chapter about the warnings as well as in the tags. Please take note of them before reading. If this isn't your cup of tea, then please don't read. It's a fictional story that yes, could happen in real life if this triggers you then kindly do not read. As of right now all Tony is only interested in being a parental figure in Peter's life a caretaker by helping Peter with whatever he can and keeping him safe.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is going to be very dark. I'll be posting before each chapter about warning as well as in the tags. Please take note of them before reading. If this isn't your cup of tea, then please don't read. It's a fictional story that yes, could happen in real life if this triggers you then kindly do not read. There might be mistakes grammar wise. I do not have a beta at this time for this story. It kind of came out of left field.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Bullying  
> Kidnapping  
> Non-Con Drug Use  
> Lying/Manipulation tactics
> 
> Please enjoy if you're still here after those warnings.

**ONE**

You know what...?"

Peter could already tell that whatever was to come out of Flash Thompson's mouth, he wasn't going to enjoy it. He rarely did. Not when Flash made it his duty in life to embarrass Peter. Flash scrunched up his beady eyes and was staring curiously up at the library's ceiling . He sometimes did this in Math class when he was overthinking an equation. Flash's eyes widened, as he came to a sudden realization. He tilted his chin down to be eye level with Peter's questioning gaze.

"I've got a question about Parker's speculated internship." Flash paused, his mouth began to stretch tauntingly. He made exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers around the word,  _ internship.  _ Peter held his breath, Flash was going to wait until their fellow teammates were going to look up from their respective phones.

Flash pursed his lips, irritably. Peter thought it was too bad Flash couldn't be interested in the drama club. Though it was hard for the older boy to shy away from an audience, he'd be perfect to be on stage. Something Peter never shared the appeal. Unless, Peter was wearing his red and blues, but he doubted Spider-Man would do well in a musical number. Peter watched in slight amusement. As Flash began to chew the inside of cheek, growing irritated at the lack of his teammates noticing him trying to pick on Peter.

Midtown's decathlon team was waiting for Mr. Harrington to arrive for their weekly meeting. Five minutes passed from their usual start time. When their phones started to ring, causing most of Peter's classmates to jump in their seats. Most of them  **did** not expect the sudden noises in what is supposed to be a quiet place. Peter of course, sat still since his reliable Spidey sense warned him of the upcoming sound.

There had been a group text sent out by their teacher. Cindy, (who was the undefeated champion of first chair.) began to read the message aloud. Apparently, Mr. Harrington was running late and the team should start without him. Which in reality, meant most of Peter's teammates were spending their practice time on their phones. They were sharing posts and chatting animatedly with one another about their plans for the upcoming weekend.

Peter had been keeping to himself, idly staring at off in the distance. His phone was nearing a dead battery. Peter knew he would have to use it to call Aunt May after practice to pick him up. So he couldn't be tinkering around on it in the meantime. No one noticed or cared that Flash was starting his favorite daily dose of humiliating, Peter. Flash would call it, Penis Parker time! and boast about it whenever he felt he had the chance. It was something Flash loved doing when teachers weren't around.

Flash began to clear his throat in a way that ground Peter's teeth together from the overstimulating sound. Flash's throat sounded congested. It made Peter think that Flash was beginning to have the early stages of a cold.

Either way, it annoyed Peter beyond belief. Peter rested his head on his open palm and tried to focus on the shelves behind Flash, trying to find titles of books he hadn't read yet. The problem was Peter had read them all, and nothing seemed to spark Peter's interest enough to think about the contents.

Sally (second,  _ and proud of it _ , alternate) took pity on Flash's attempts for attention while he continued to clear his throat from the mucus monsters declaring a home against his windpipe. She peered over her dimly lit screen, her pale skin shined as if she was under a spotlight. It exaggerated on her soft features that were twisting in annoyance. Flash seemed to be satisfied by any reaction, curled his lips, and he continued, "is that he wouldn't stop talking about it when Liz was here."

Peter twisted his face into a grimace, and he stared down at the pine table, his knuckles digging into the baby fat in his cheeks. He suddenly was finding the rifts in the wood very interesting and wanted nothing more than to shrink down and disappear from Flash's taunts. The logical side of his brain told him there was no such way, but that didn't stop him from wanting to. Peter knew where Flash was heading, and he hated that he couldn't just tell everyone the truth.

"I mean, Liz is gone now. She's somewhere riding along  _ The Oregon Trail _ . So now, Parker all the sudden doesn't have his internship with Tony Stark?"

Okay, Peter loved Ned with all his heart, but recently it was difficult for Peter not to be annoyed with his best friend. After the events with Adrian Toomes, Peter had been keeping a low profile, and with that, his schedule cleared up tremendously. Ned was ecstatic that he was finally able to have his best friend back, and Peter was too. Except, it got to the point that Ned didn't sugar coat it. He practically boasted anytime, anywhere (despite Peter's many protests) about how many Lego sets and two-player games the pair was able to complete now. It caused a series of questioning from Peter's peers about his status with his internship. Something that Flash jumped on when Peter had stopped making excuses about having to go to his Stark Internship. It was enough ammo for Flash to decimate Peter into social oblivion.

"So did Tony Stark realize just how unimportant you truly are?" Peter could tell Flash was holding back a chuckle, "Did he let you go quietly or was there some big commotion?"

Peter scrunched his eyebrows together, avoiding the urge to glance upward to see the sneer widening Flash's lips. "What do you want, Flash?" He asked, making circle patterns on the table with his free hand. Peter couldn't help how his voice sounded chipped, and he mentally kicked himself for showing how irritated he was getting. One thing about Flash was that he didn't quit until he got what he wanted, and that meant Peter either being humiliated or showing signs that Flash was getting under his skin. Unfortunately, Peter was feeling the latter.

" _Ooh_ ," Flash teased, and Peter could see the shadows of Flash's hands wave mockingly on the table between them. "Hostile much? You must have made some kind of shit show, Parker."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, watching his fingers trace out physic formulas from memory.

_ Okay, the equations of rotation are... _

_ ω = ω0 + αt _

_ Flash began to knock consistently on the table, making Peter grow more annoyed by each thump of the older boy's knuckles. _

_ θ = θ0 + ω0t + ½αt2 _

_ KNOCK! KNOCK! _

_ ω2 = ω03 Wait... That wasn't right... W02. + 2α(θ θ0) _

_ THUMP! KNOCK! _

_ ω.. = ½..... _

Peter's brow furrowed as he brought his thumb to his mouth and bite into his nail. He couldn't focus with Flash banging on the table like a toddler having free range with pots and pans.

_ Okay, Newton's Second Law is a easy one to do... _

After a series of ridiculous drumming that Flash had no concept of a rhythm. Only tapping out of beat and annoyingly painful to listen too, Peter gave up with his equation memory game and heaved a heavy sigh. He glanced upwards at Flash's bemused smile and wiggling eyebrows, "So, what fucked up thing did you do to get yourself fired, Parker?"

Peter uncrossed his ankles and started to bounce his knee up and down; feeling restless, like he needed to get away. Peter wouldn't have volunteered to be this close to Flash, but since he been one of the last few of his teammates to show up to their decathlon meeting. Peter grudgingly plopped himself in the seat across from Flash. Something he wished, Ned or anyone would trade places with him. He knew though, that no one would. Peter might be Flash's favorite bubble to poke and prod until he popped, but Flash would tease anyone if given the chance. Ned at the moment was too busy going through the folder of topics with Michelle to notice the torture Peter was dealing with at the moment. This, Peter was sure was going to Flash's highlight of the day.

"Anyway, what I want is-" Flash shrugged, when Peter decided to remain silent, "the truth. You admit that you made up the internship to impress Liz."

"I didn't," Peter said, knowing all too well that this was a lost cause.

Flash snorted, "Right, the evidence proves that you lie, Parker."

"I wasn't lying," Peter grumbled back, looking down again and noticed that his hands were clasped firmly together. He knew that it must have seemed suspicious because he then quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Peter needed to distract himself not let Flash's words get to him. Peter began to type out his passcode, careful not to slice his thumb open from the many cracks in the screen. He didn't have the money to get it fixed, not that it mattered. That was from a lifestyle Peter probably will never have again. Maybe he'd keep the screen as a souvenir from his past adventures.

Peter had almost forgotten what it was like to be normal, to be only, Peter Parker. Just another nerd in the midst of Midtown Highs young and the brightest, where everything seemed to be a competition. Rivalries between his classmates weren't uncommon. They could be so fierce that perfection and stress wasn't a foreign concept among Peter's peers, among himself.

It could become toxic, like Flash trying to one-up everything Peter did and would result in verbal threats if Peter ever got recognition over him. Peter used to be able to cope with absorbing himself with books and tinkering around with lost devices he found in dumpsters, but ever since that spider bite. Peter had engaged himself in a whole new world.

A world where he felt important, where Peter felt like he could make a difference. Somewhere he could find out who he was, and not just be another face in the crowd. Peter had felt special. A hero, like he read in comic books.

That all changed when Peter made the mistakes that cost him his superhero career. By making immature choices, Mr. Stark had taken the one thing (at the time) that seemed important to Peter. But after those long weeks of self-reflecting and putting the Vulture away, seeing how his actions put a strain in his relationships. Peter now realized that there was more to his life than just being Spider-Man. That didn't mean Peter hadn't longed to don his red and blues again, and not the supposed ' onesie ' he made by rummaging around the bottom of his closet.

Peter missed going out on patrol and talking with Karen. Missed stopping crimes around Queens, being in contact with Happy and sometimes Mr. Stark. Peter hadn't gone out since Homecoming, not with Aunt May throwing down a hammer equivalent to Thor's Mjolnir.

May had put Peter on a strict curfew that he was to be home at nine every night. He had to leave his door open, so May could keep an eye on him so he couldn't sneak out. It caused a slight uproar from Peter which only made Aunt May add on to his punishments. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere without calling her and getting permission first. Two weeks this had been going on, and this weekend was finally the end of the terrain if Peter proved himself responsible enough. That if Ned asked him over during the weekend to spend a afternoon at the arcade Aunt May promised Peter could go. If, in fact, Peter would make sure to call her and make it home on time.

"Right," Flash's voice brought Peter out of his thoughts, "Just like I wasn't lying about having a hot date with Black Widow. Admit it, Parker; you're a parasite on the team. Just do yourself a favor and quit."

Peter hadn't realized that his phone screen went blank as he stared down at the many reflections of his sad eyes. The expression on his face looked like he was about to cry which would only make Flash even more triumphant. Calm down , he thought, he couldn't cry in front of Flash. He shouldn't let Flash win.

"That's really harsh." Sally interrupted. Peter glanced up thankful for someone to pull Flash's attention away, but she caught Peter's stare and insantly went back to her phone, smiling at something on her screen and double tapped to leave a heart on a post.

"The truth can be harsh." Flash agreed, turning back to bully Peter.

Peter knew he shouldn't lie down and take Flash's taunts. Flash was always interrupting him while he spoke and continuously probing him with questions and trying to catch him in lies. Flash kept going on about how Peter should've been expelled with the stunt he pulled in Washington or at least kicked off the team for ditching constantly.

Usually, Peter's teammates would stand up for Peter, but since Washington and Liz leaving, they've been sitting silent while Flash bullied him even more than usual. Even Ned seemed to keep quiet, and Peter wondered in a small way if Ned felt that Flash's words rang true, if they all felt that way. Peter knew he should have repercussions for his actions, but hadn't the many after-school detentions counted? Plus, Mr. Harrington had pulled Peter from the second chair to the fourth alternate until Peter could prove that could cooperate on the team again. What did Flash have to gain?Peter was skating on thin ice, and listening to Flash remind him of that and makeup stories was enough for Peter to snap.

"You know what?" Peter said, letting go of his phone as it made an audible thunk on the table, "I'm having problems at home, okay?" It's out before he can stop himself. He felt like an idiot; this would only fuel Flash into probing him further for more of an explanation.

"Having troubles with that hot aunt of yours?" Flash considered Peter with mock sincere, "What she ground you? Take away your lego sets?" Flash began to lean forward on the table between them, his lips curling at the corner, "Or did she tell you how much of a disappointment you are to her?"

Peter scanned his opponent's green-flecked brown eyes. Why was this happening? Why wasn't Mr. Harrington here yet? Blood pounded in Peter's ears.

**Possible reactions to Flash Thompson's Idiocy:**

  1. Punch him in the face... Actually, don't punch him in the face, you'd probably concave his face in with your insane spider strength.
  2. Do absolutely nothing. Rage-cry later in the shower at home, because Aunt May won't let you slam your door shut. Remember what she had said about taking the door off the hinges? and I totally believe her.
  3. Unleash the all mighty forces of the radioactive spider bequeathed to you upon that lovely spider bite, but no then everyone would know you're the Spider-Man from YouTube. Better not...



"I asked you a question." Flash sucked in his lips. It made him look like a Who from Whoville.

_ Punching him would be therapeutic. _

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

_So therapeutic._

Dammit, who was Peter fooling? It was option three taking the lead. It'll always be option three. At this stage of the game there was no need for Peter to act like a hero. He messed that up terribly.

"You're such a moron, Penis Parker."

"Shut up, Flash." Peter pressed his hands against his face, protecting himself from spilling anything wet from his eyes. He wanted desperately to drown everyone out. Get rid of the negativity.

"Leave him alone, Flash." Michelle's monotone voice made Peter's stomach flip. He hated that he couldn't defend for himself.

"Why? Does the truth sting a bit, Penis Parker?" Peter could hear Flash slide his arms out across the table. A tingle shot up Peter's spine towards his head as Flash grabbed hold of Peter's arms and tried pulling his arms away from his face.

"Honestly stop!" Peter snapped, scooting his chair back from the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He stared down at his worn-out shoes, a layer of black tape wrapped up neatly around the broken soles. Aunt May was going to take Peter shopping this weekend to get a new pair, but Peter still had to deal with his crappy shoes in the meantime. Peter wanted to tear them off his feet and chuck them at Flash's head. Change that smug expression Flash was currently sporting. Someone needed to change seats with Peter.  _ Some time soon would be great. _

"The only disappointment here is you, Flash." Ned's voice cut in. Peter took his hands away from his face, and looked towards his best friend. Ned's nostrils were flared and his chin was held high. Ned never got angry and when he did, it wasn't all that pretty.

"How so?" Flash asked, turning away from Peter and spotted Ned and Michelle down the end of the table where they were seated.

"You want me to bring up the fact. That you'd rather save the trophy and went before Liz when we got stuck in the elevator?"

"That was a while ago," Flash threw out his hand, "it doesn't count anymore."

Ned scoffed, "Right, from where I'm sitting that speaks more about your moral compass than Peter's supposedly lying." Ned began to flip through the binder again before adding, "You don't live his life. You have no idea what Peter might be going through."

Of course, Ned was the only one that really knew, and Peter was thankful that Ned had gotten up and let Peter trade places with him. By the time he had settled himself down next to Michelle his phone vibrated against his hip. He was shocked to find a text from Happy but didn't question the chance of escaping for a while. Peter hadn't bothered to tell anyone where he was going. Just that he had to leave, ignoring Flash's teasing that he was going to cry in the restroom. Peter hadn't noticed Michelle's questioning gaze or Ned's sudden confusion. All Peter wanted was to welcome the idea of change as he retreated towards Happy's odd choice of a meeting place inside the Junior's bathroom.

Never once did Peter question Happy's sincere words of how much he had helped him out with the stolen jet. Peter wondered why Happy seemed to emphasize heavily on telling Peter that he wouldn't know what to do if he didn't have his job with Mr. Stark. However, at Happy's promise of taking him upstate to meet with Tony Stark, well, all the confusion rushed out of Peter. Instead, a giddy excitement had him bursting at the seams. Never did Peter think to text Ned or Aunt May. All he cared about was the fact he was going to see the Avenger facility up close and personal.

Peter climbed into the back seat of the Audi A8, and a rush of cold air met him even through his multiple layers of clothing. It was chillier inside the vehicle than the air outside. Peter clicked his seatbelt securely and settled down against the leather seat, wondering if it was okay to ask Happy to turn up the heat.

"Here, kid." Happy said, pushing a coffee cup toward Peter's tightly wound hands.

"That's okay." Peter responded, turning his lips upward to form a smile, "I'm not a fan of coffee." He had hoped that he had come off as polite, but judging from Happy's unhappy demeanor, Peter supposed it was anything but.

Peter already had to deal with his elevated senses, adding caffeine to the mix was a cluster of jitters he felt like he couldn't control. His spidey sense would suddenly work on overdrive. Everything would set him off thinking it was a threat even if it wasn't and Peter wouldn't be able to focus on anything until the caffeine would work itself out of his system. Plus, if he was honest, Peter wasn't a fan of the bitter taste. There wasn't enough cream or sugar he could douse in a coffee mug to make it sweet enough for his liking.

"It's hot chocolate." Happy explained, nudging the cup toward Peter again. Peter glanced down at the paper cup where he could make out half of the brand logo in between Happy's fingers. There were sketches of autumn leaves and acorns adorning the container, matching the season change perfectly outside.

Peter knew Starbucks had a competition annually where artists could submit their designs and get a chance to be featured on coffee cups. It was a chance for artists to get their name out there, something he wanted Michelle to enter with her work. But he had gotten a snarky response for his efforts about how mainstream coffee joints were corrupting aspiring artists and that she wouldn't dare send her work into a faceless corporation. Michelle had gone on about global businesses that Peter had unabashedly tuned out soon after, learning his lesson never to try and get Michelle to get out of her sulking bubble.

"It's been so cold. I thought you'd enjoy it, during the ride upstate." Peter bounced back to reality just as Happy began to jiggle the cup in front of his face, waiting for Peter to grab hold of it.

_Yeah, well, keeping the car like an icebox would make you think everything was cold._ Peter thought, gingerly taking the cup and nursing it in between his hands. The warmth from such a small container fueled up Peter's arms and left him with a shameless comfort, "Th-thanks, Happy."

Happy didn't respond, but merely readjusted the mirror and began to set off down the road. Both Peter and Happy settle into a silence that Peter broke with fiddling with the lid of his drink. There was a smell that wafted up towards his nostrils, and he brought it close to his face to breath in the contents.

"What's in it?" Peter couldn't quite place the smell, undoing the lid and peeking inside, there was a mixture of spices floating on top of the creamy liquid and a type of syrup sticking on the side.

"Cinnamon and honey." Happy said, glancing at Peter through the mirror.

Peter raised his eyebrows, impressed, "Fancy."

Happy shrugged, "You know those mainstream businesses, always trying something new. Boss, said you liked disgustingly sweet things."

"That I do." Peter admitted, placing the lid back on top and took a deep swing. Content from the fact that it tasted just as blissful as it smelled.

Happy continued to talk to Peter about the new driverless car feature something Peter found incredibly interesting but also found it weird that Happy was being so talkative. He hadn't been this chatty on the phone and don't even get Peter started on the trip to Berlin. Peter wanted to set his drink down for awhile. He should send a message to his aunt or at least text Ned where he had gone. But, there was only one cup holder, and it was in the front so anytime Peter tried to set his cup down. Happy told him that he didn't want Peter to make a mess even when Peter had asked to set it in the holder up front.

"Just finish it, kid." Happy persisted, "The leather in here cost more than you or me, and Boss would have our heads if you spilled."

Peter scrunched his eyebrows together, and Happy had sounded urgent like he was pleading with Peter just to keep his hot chocolate. Peter wondered why Happy bothered giving him a drink in the first place if Mr. Stark would be mad about a potential spill. Peter leaned back against the seats, taking another sip. He didn't like the fact that Happy had this duel attitude. Peter wondered if Mr. Stark was that hard to work for.

After a while, Peter started to notice how he was leaning against the car door, oddly watching the reflection of the car in the nearby building windows. He didn't think he was that tired, but he supposed from what had felt like a long week and Flash's constant teasing. It must have done a number on him.

"You doing all right, kid?" Happy asked, adjusting the mirror again, and Peter lamely made eye contact with him through the rear-view mirror. "Had a long day at school?"

"Yeah," Peter stifled a yawn, "it all kinda just sprung on me."

Peter took another swing from his drink and finished it off. Leaning forward to hand it to Happy. Happy took it, shaking it almost like he was expecting it to ring out like a handbell and said, "Why don't you lay down for a bit? We've got another forty minutes or so to go."

Peter immediately thought this sounded like a good idea, unbuckling himself and sinking down against the back seat. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his now warm hands and closed his eyes. The only thing he questioned just before he is taken into a sea of darkness was that upstate most definitely would've taken longer than forty minutes.

**. . .**

  
Peter felt like he was being held inside a dreaming state. He couldn't twist or turn only welcoming the oblivion of darkness around him. Until voices above him, made him return toward the waking world.  
  
"How long has he been asleep?"  
  
"Thirty minutes at best."  
  
"Any troubles?"  
  
"None, the kid went out immediately. No struggle."  
  
"Good."  
  
Those voices sounded so familiar, but Peter still felt this uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his hands tightly against his ears. Anything to fall asleep again. He could still hear the voices and at a sudden sound of Mr. Stark's voice brought Peter's attention back online. _How could one person voice sound like butter melting on hot toast?_

"Mr. Stark?" Peter croaked out, and the darkness was all around him. He couldn't open his eyes no matter how hard he tried. He could barely move his body either. It felt like it would take too much effort even to try.  
  
"Yeah, it's me." Mr. Stark's calm and collected tone washed over Peter. Hm, melted butter. Peter began to wonder why Mr. Stark's voice was above him. Had his nap been that deep? Why was he still so tired? Why couldn't he stop thinking about butter?  
  
Peter could feel someone's hands start to pull him upward and he groaned at the contact. His body felt like lead and was heavy, all he wanted to do was to fall back asleep again.  
  
"Up and att'em, Pete." Mr. Stark said, shoving his hand under Peter's back and slightly pushed. Even through the heavy coat Peter swore he could feel the warmth coming off of the man's hand.  
  
"Too tired." Peter groaned, leaning back going against the man's hand. He could hear a series of heavy sighs. Peter started to feel two pairs of arms circle around his waist, and his stomach dropped as the two men hoisted him upward and out of the car. He didn't even have time to groan in protest as his mouth started to dry out from the chalky air around him.  
  
Peter stood on rubbery knees, leaning against a large object that thought might be Happy. His eyes opened slightly, squinting from the light of a parking garage. He could make out Mr. Stark rummaging around in his school bag.  
  
"My suit's not in there." Peter slurred, and swayed in Happy's protective arms.  
  
"Hap, help me change his clothes." Mr. Stark said, ignoring Peter's grumbled out words. Peter could see Mr. Stark come into his line of view and softly take hold of his cheek. Peter leaned into him watching his mouth move but couldn't understand what words he was saying. Peter just found himself staring at those lips.

"Peter? Peter can you hear me?" Peter nodded, gazing into the sea of concrete just beyond Mr. Stark's head.

"Good, boy. Now time to take off your clothes. You can't wear this on the mission."Peter started to giggle as both Mr. Stark and Happy helped him undress. First his jacket then his favorite graphic tee. Peter had to lean against Mr. Stark to pull off his jeans. He could smell the warm amber and rich pepper through Mr. Stark's shirt. He started giggling when he kicked off his shoes and watched them hazily as they flew a few feet away from them.  
  
"Oh, I get it." Peter said, as Mr. Stark helped him into a dark sweater, wiggling his head around to find the neck hole. "We're going on a retreat." Peter's stomach leaped from the excitement when Mr. Stark's face came into view again. "Wait, no, no. A mission is what you told me."  
  
Peter started to giggle his laughter carrying around the empty garage. When Peter remembers this later, he will think his voice sounded haunting like a scream from all those horror films he used to watch. Mr. Stark pulled Peter's loose arms in the holes of the sweater, grimacing from the boy's gleeful state. Only to get tap on Peter's lips when Peter became too loud with his giggles.  
  
"Shh, Peter." Mr. Stark came back into Peter's line of view, pushing his hair off of his forehead, "That's right it's a top-secret mission. So you have to quiet."  
  
"Ooh," Peter nodded his head, feeling like his head was made out of rubber. "Shh!" He put his index finger against his lips and made a half-heartedly shushing noise which corrupted him into another fit of giggles.  
  
"Damn, Hap. How much did you give him?" Tony asked, leaving Peter's side as Peter reached out for him, wanting him to come back and share his warmth. He was so warm, and smelled good.   
  
"I gave him the amount you told me to give him." Happy snapped. Happy replaced Mr. Stark with helping Peter into his clothes and Peter watched as Happy bent down and took hold of Peter legs, trying to get Peter to lift his leg up.Peter nearly toppled down as he grabbed hold of Happy's shoulders to regain his balance, hearing Mr. Stark's voice ring around the garage, "Don't you dare let him fall backward, Happy."Peter wiggled his foot into the open leg, "Happy," he asked, "there was more than just cinnamon and honey in that hot chocolate wasn't there? Peter thought back on seeing those spices fluttering around the edges of the cup.  
  
Happy paused in his actions to get Peter's left leg to go into the sweats. Peter couldn't see his face, and wanted to change that. Although, everything looked like he was in a fog. He reached up his hand and began to pat Happy on top of his head, "There was nutmeg too!"Peter started to giggle again, clasping his hands over his mouth.

At the sound of Peter's giggles Happy snapped out his thoughts and helped Peter pull on the rest of his pants. Peter could feel Happy's tight hand wrap around his upper arm and pulled him away towards the opposite side of the garage where Mr. Stark was waiting for them. Peter's bare feet scrapped among the hard flooring, and he stared down at the white concrete. Almost wishing it was freshly fallen snow so he could roll around in it.

_What if I did a dive into it? Head first?_

Peter doesn't get the chance to find out because once all three of them are in arm's length of each other, Happy pushed Peter into Mr. Stark arms. Peter leaned into the older man's comforting chest, "Happy, should be happy." Peter said, smacking his lips as the sound rung around the garage, "A happy, happy person." Peter just wanted everyone to be happy, like he was feeling. So weightless and carefree. He'd do anything Mr. Stark would ask of him.  
  
"He is," Tony assured, tilting Peter's face to look up at him. Peter wished he could see Mr. Stark's face more clearly this fog messed up his chance to see Mr. Stark's beauty. "Open your mouth,"  
  
Peter does willingly, and his mouth was filled with a rich, dark taste of chocolate. Peter all but moaned around it, chewing it gleefully as it stuck to the roof of his mouth and clung to his teeth.  
  
Mr. Stark and Peter swayed for a moment. Mr. Stark was whispering things next to his ear, but he couldn't make out what was being said, but he knew they were sweet things, because his stomach couldn't stop fluttering, like there were millions of moths beating against his tummy.All too soon everything around Peter became fuzzy. Peter could only seem to focus on Mr. Stark's beautiful mouth. It was moving in rhythmic ways like a caterpillar. He reached up to try and catch it, or maybe he was trying to lean into it and bite it. Peter didn't know. He felt Mr. Stark's fingers wrap around his and the warmth from him shot into Peter from their clasped hands up towards his arm.  
  
"Time to get into the car, Pete. Top secret mission and all that."  
  
Peter leaned his head to the side, "What about, Happy?"  
  
"Happy's not going."  
  
Peter jutted out his bottom lip in a pout, "but I want him to."  
  
Mr. Stark smiled, and began to pull Peter towards the open door, Peter's knees hit painfully against the threshold, surprising him into stopping and wondering why something that he barely hit would hurt so much, "He might come later, now get in the car." Mr. Stark said, pulling at Peter's shoulder to get him to climb into the seat.  
  
Peter smiled suddenly, craning his neck back where he hoped Happy was still around, "Bye Happy!"  
  
It came out like he was singing it, and he climbed into the car without hesitation as Mr. Stark leaned over him and buckled him in.  
  
"Can I have another candy? Peter asked, noticing now how dry his mouth felt. _Maybe I meant water._    
  
"No, Pete." Mr. Stark said, rearranging Peter's legs so he could be more comfortable.

"Why?" Peter could feel his bottom lip tremble, and he was beginning to become tired again. He really wanted water.  
  
"Close your eyes. You're tired, yeah?"  
  
Peter tried to nod, but Mr. Stark was in the process of reclining the seat, and all Peter could do was lay down slowly, as a yawn escaped his mouth.  
  
"You can have one later. If you're good." Mr. Stark told him, wrapping him up in a blanket and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Peter smiled into the feeling of velvet lips against his skin and cuddled into the soft blanket.  
  
Peter could barely make out Mr. Stark words to Happy about getting rid of his backpack and clothes. Peter couldn't help but feel sad about the loss of his favorite t-shirt and the fact he'd have to ask Aunt May for a new bag when he returned from their mission. But honestly, he was going to be Spider-Man again wasn't that all worth it?. . .Peter awoke up from a small jostle, and he blinked back the tired feeling in his eyes, "I don't feel that good."Water... I need water.   
  
Mr. Stark chuckled beside him, "I thought you'd be out longer than that."  
  
Peter's eyes slip shut, and he can feel the car shift onto the side of the road, "What do you remember?"  
  
Peter opened his eyes slightly, seeing Mr. Stark's cheeky grin. What did he remember? He remembered Flash bullying him after school. Happy taking him upstate, feeling really tired.  
  
"We kind of had a celebration of sorts." Mr. Stark interrupted Peter's thoughts, and Peter could hear the older man rummage around some sort of cloth bag. "You did so well with the Vulture that Happy and I wanted to give you a small victory dinner."  
  
Something didn't add up, but Peter's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He couldn't focus on anything. He could feel that tingling sensation from his Spidey sense, but Mr. Stark would never hurt him. Why was it doing that? Maybe he shouldn't of had that hot chocolate. Too much caffeine again."I can't believe you drank that much. Honestly, I was the same at your age, but I know we can't have May finding out. So I thought I'd drive you around so you could sleep it off before I took you back home. I wanted to make sure you'd be sober."  
  
 _That's a complete lie._ Peter thought  
  
"I'm not old enough to drink-" He stopped and let his heavy tongue swipe over his teeth. He could feel plaque on them from what must have been from the candy. Candy? Really really sweet candy. Why did his mouth feel so dry?  
  
"Yeah, didn't stop you from sneaking some you little bugger."  
  
"No-" Peter shook his head, he wouldn't do that. He felt light-headed he wanted to call Aunt May, but where was his phone? Where was his backpack?  
  
"Awe, here sweetheart. I'll give you something to fall asleep again. It's better to sleep it off."  
  
Mr. Stark's words were so profound and haunted that Peter began to wonder if his early warning sense was actually trying to tell him something. Like a thunderclap to the chest everything came back online. Everything that happened after he had gone into the car with Happy. Sad thing was though, Peter couldn't move. He was a trapped prey in the eyes of the apex predator.  
  
"Why?" he asked, as Mr. Stark leaned over him, towering him with his shadow.  
  
"Becuase," Mr. Stark cradled Peter's face, tucking stray curls off his forehead, his lips stretching wide, "I'm trying to protect you." Mr. Stark brought a cloth towards Peter's mouth and nose, clamping down hard. The world went hazy around Peter again. He sank back into the seat. He became a tourist in the waking world, never fully awake not really asleep either. All he remembered after was the numbed-out jolt and sway of being in the car. The engine grumbled on, for what seemed in Peter's mind forever. Until a particular dip of land caused Peter's stomach to flip and he fell into a deep, unnerving slumber.

 


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! I wasn't expecting that in my first chapter! You guys are so kind and sweet! I can't believe it! I got so excited and wrote chapter two so quickly becuase you guys are literally awesome! I also went back and edited chapter one it has some more details and is a lot better to read through after I spotted some mistakes. Thank you seriously! I can't wait for all of us to go down this twisted tale together. :)
> 
> WARNINGS  
> NONCON Drug Use  
> Kidnapping  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders
> 
> Still here after those warnings? Enjoy! :)

**TWO**

An astounding pair of howls burst within the confines of Peter's once undisturbed slumber. It shocked him awake, and his senses toppled into a frenzy. Electric guitars and drums beat in harmonic timing against the stereo speakers in the car. The bass thumped in time to Peter's frantic heartbeat, like the wings of a hummingbird's. He clutched hold of the soft blanket that still was wrapped securely around him.

Peter pried his eyes open, searching for the source of the volume. It was too loud; it messed with his hearing. He could practically hear the static beyond the record. It shot a stinging flash of pain to his temple, and he opened his mouth in a silent groan. Peter's head lounged to the side, and he caught Mr. Stark gripping the steering wheel, thumbs tapping to the beat of the drums. Bottom lip sucked inward, as his head swayed along with the guitar riffs. A perfect example of someone jamming to their favorite hits.

Peter closed and opened his dry mouth, trying to make a noise but he knew it would be barely audible against the vocals now erupting from the stereo. Peter closed his eyes holding back a silent plea, and his mouth hung open as he tried to regain the motion in his arms. Peter could barely move them past a few inches in from his chest. It made it seem like his heart was beating right out of his chest like those cartoon characters he would watch on Saturday mornings or on Ned's tablet during their lunch break. Peter let out a heavy sigh; face scrunched in pain about to let the wetness collecting at the corner of his eyes slip free when,

"Awe, shit! F.R.I.D.A.Y. mute the music." Automatically the sound that was heard was the engine humming along. As Peter breathed in deep, he let the ringing cease in between his ears.

"Peter? you okay?" Mr. Stark was looking between Peter and the road. He reached over and slightly brushed off Peter's bangs that made Peter immediately shiver.

"Too loud, I can't-" Peter stopped and let out a dry cough. Peter's voice sounded hoarse and strained, his fingers were twitching under the blanket as he mentally asked for something to coat his throat.

"Shit, I almost forgot about your heightened hearing." Mr. Stark said, reaching down and presenting a tumbler and straw for Peter to take hold of, "Water," He explained when Peter didn't try and grab hold it immediately.

Peter knew he should be skeptical, but his dehydrated state of mind had him scrambling with the blanket off of his hands to get hold of the drink. Once free, his fingers fumbled to hold purchase onto the smooth surface of the bottle and ignored Mr. Stark's questioning if, he could handle it himself?Peter got his trembling lips around the straw, and sucked in the contents. Swallowed down the cooling liquid that chilled his insides and made a home in his empty stomach.

He knew he was potentially, willingly, letting himself to be dragged under with drugs laced in within this basic necessity, but his need to survive screamed at him much louder than the chance of safety.After all, Tony Stark was still Peter's biggest hero, his mentor. Peter knew that Iron Man had a plausible explanation for all of this, Mr. Stark had too.

"All right, sweetheart. That's enough," Mr. Stark interrupted. Peter had been slurping up the remaining contents of water, making loud noises trying to catch every last remaining drop of water that he could. Mr. Stark leaned over and took the bottle away from Peter's lips. Peter languidly tried to follow Mr. Stark's retreating hand, his lips releasing the tight hold around the straw. A few drops of water spilled from Peter's lips and dribbled onto his chin as he mindlessly wiped them away like his blanket was a bib. Peter leaned back, satisfied that his throat felt a million times better. His headache dimmed down to a low thrumming, and he was glad it wasn't drumming against his skull anymore.

Peter let his eyes wander out towards the windshield. Mr. Stark was taking them down a long winding road where beautiful trees were placed delicately on each side of the road. It looked like something out of a movie. The leaves on the trees were changing vastly in these vibrant yellow and orange shades.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, resume playlist." Mr. Stark said, after a while when the silence was enough for Peter's ringing in his ears to cease.

Again the stereos erupted with music. The volume was lowering towards a therapeutic level. Peter watched his mentor head sway like he was apart of the sounds coming from the instruments. "There's something so arousing about rock and blues. Damn," Mr. Stark smiled sweetly like apple pie, "I can't even explain it."

The ride dragged on for another good hour or so, or at least it felt that way to Peter. He had been zoning in and out between the synchronization of instruments. He looked outside of his window and saw the long, towering trees just beyond his reach, and he wondered if the branches would support his weight. Peter realized with a sinking feeling that he didn't even have his web shooters. He couldn't produce organic webbing, and honestly, he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he still was feeling so weak, that he was so tired.It was still daytime, late in the evening? Peter had the idea that they were still in New York, but where? Well, Peter wasn't all that sure. Finger Lakes probably would've taken them at least six hours and the last time Peter checked the time it was around 3:30, and since he couldn't find a reliable source of time in the car or had enough strength to glance down at his watch. Peter had to guess from the light source outside and how much he thought he had slept. Trouble was Peter couldn't even remember a distant amount of time that passed not with these drugs in his system. He was so screwed.

**. . .**

"Pete?"

Mr. Stark was nudging at Peter's shoulder. The passenger side door was open, and the cool breeze made Peter tense up. It was beginning to get a lot colder as the day turned to night, Peter noticed sinking back against the seat, trying to close his eyes again, "Let's try and go to the bathroom."

At the mention of using the bathroom, Peter opened his eyes, seeing Mr. Stark bend down and grab his legs. He maneuvered Peter so that he was now facing the open door. His legs dangled in between Mr. Stark's waist and his head hit the center console and he stared unblinkingly at the car's roof. Mr. Stark began slipping on socks to his bare feet. Peter couldn't understand how the man's hands were so warm. The door's open, Peter. Peter's thoughts began to cross with how he could try and push Mr. Stark off of him, do something and run. Which was laughable, he could barely sit up without assistance.

"I do have-" Peter mumbled out, as Mr. Stark began to tug on tennis shoes onto his feet. They felt tight like when you slipped your feet into a new pair of shoes. Something Peter almost had forgotten since he was used to wearing second-hand footwear.

"Okay, good." was Mr. Stark's response, tying the laces up and tugged at Peter's arms. Peter's vision went circular like when he would ride those carnival rides in Coney Island. The spinning cup ride was Peter and Ned's favorite, despite how sick they'd get. One thing before Peter getting that spider bite was that he would easily would get motion sickness. Which after the events of that spider, he was now able to do any flipping or twirling without getting him sick enough to lose the contents in his stomach. This drug that Mr. Stark kept feeding into his system, though. It made him feel sick, just like he could before the bite. Which was ridiculous, there was no way Mr. Stark could've manufactured something like that, right?

Without the safety of his web shooters and his reaction time increasingly decreased than usual. Peter blindly wrapped his arms around Mr. Stark's neck. Their bodies were flushed together, and Peter could feel the heat from the older man's firm body. The smell of his strong cologne clearing Peter's nostrils as a tingle of pleasure rushed down his spine.

_How could a human smell that good?_

"All right, all right." Mr. Stark said, pulling a hood over Peter's head, "Keep your head down."

Peter walked on legs that felt like jelly, leaning against Mr. Stark as he stared down at the pavement that suddenly turned into the white tile. The cold air from outside now turned warm. Mr. Stark was directing Peter toward what he must have thought was a family style bathroom. He could hear the door open as Mr. Stark nudged Peter inside and closed the door behind him, locking them both inside.

The restroom smelled cleaned against Peter's nose. He began to stumble towards the toilet his balance unstable like he was going to slip on ice. Just before his face met the toilet seat, Mr. Stark had wrapped an arm around Peter's bicep and hoisted him back upward.

"You might have to sit." Mr. Stark explained, directing Peter to turn around, so his back was facing the toilet.

"No," Peter half-heartedly pushed him away. "I can do it myself."

"Peter," Mr. Stark sighed, "You can barely stand." It came out harsh like Mr. Stark was growing irritated. But that was another lie; Peter could stand. Just not reliably well, but those were small details.

Peter stood there body swaying, and his bladder was reaching a point of being uncomfortable.

"Do you need my help?"

Peter grasped at the arm support rood to regain himself to be motionless. He needed to have something other than Mr. Stark to hold onto. He didn't want to be overruled by Mr. Stark. Peter just wanted to get away from the man. Get the man's smell off of him. _But he smells so good._ Peter must have zoned out because he jerked suddenly when Mr. Stark gave him a minor shake at his shoulder.

"Peter?" When Mr. Stark's voice said, Peter's name is almost sounded like he was begging, "I can help you sit on the toilet." Mr. Stark whispered close to Peter who began to shake his head.

"I'm not trying to embarrass you; Pete. Just trying to help you." Peter looked up and struggled to hold eye contact with Mr. Stark. He tried and knew he was failing to look threatening in his current state.

**Possible escape tactics to get away from Mr. Stark:**

  1. Become dead weight and try toppling Mr. Stark to the ground, but I doubt I can hoist myself back up. Plus, Mr. Stark would get his hand on me in no time.
  2. I'm about 5"8, and Mr. Stark has about four inches on me. My right hook and reaction time is going to be sluggish at best. He's going to see me coming from a mile away.
  3. Go to the bathroom, because you can't hold it in any more you idiot and decency be damned! All of this be damned. I can figure something out later when I'm not high as a kite.



_Of course, option three struck again, lucky number three._ Peter knew he wouldn't be able to escape without a bit of help, and since the man towering beside him supposedly was only trying to help him. But Mr. Stark was always going to be ten steps ahead of Peter. He probably had a cloth stashed in his back pocket doused with that strange smelling drug, ready to bring it over Peter's mouth again if he tried anything. Peter didn't want to be drugged again.

"All right," Mr. Stark said, breaking the eye contact and twisted Peter's wobbly body around and closer to the toilet. Peter was shivering in his oversized clothing. He could himself whine softly as his bladder told him how much he needed to go.Mr. Stark carefully shifted Peter entirely into his left arm. Peter felt his world sag downward and he hung over Mr. Stark's forearm like a sack. Peter's legs felt like they would buckle under him and he sunk his fingers into the older man's arm. It seemed like Peter could weakly manage minor arm movements and the feat of holding up his head. At least it's something, he thought weakly.

As soon as Peter's vision cleared slightly, he grabbed Mr. Stark's left wrist with his free hand and tried to manage a stable way to exist the man's arms. "Relax," Mr. Stark said, moving with purpose. Peter knew Mr. Stark was trying to stabilize him in his grip, but Peter felt like he was being jostled around like a sack of potatoes.

Mr. Stark's hand lifted the bottom of Peter's top slightly. Peter could feel calloused fingertips skirt down his belly to reach the hem of Peter's pants. This ripped a animalistic growl from Peter and he started squirming immediately. "No!" he cried. Peter was in no position to easily reach his hand to pull at his pants but tried just the same. He swiped at the space below his navel before batting at Mr. Stark's hand away. "No! No-no-no-no-no." Peter was repeating this word frantically, shaking his head until the room spun.

Mr. Stark didn't respond acting out on autopilot and pushed down Peter's pants past his behind, and they circled his ankles. This granted Peter full control of his left arm, and in a panic, he reached down and covered his hand over his crotch. Peter grabbed the fabric of his boxers and gripped his dick hiding it self consciously. "I can do it myself!" he cried. "I'll do it myself!" Peter stopped for a second to regain his breath. Mr. Stark stood rigid. Maybe Mr. Stark was resisting his urge to argue with Peter again, about how Peter wasn't able to move properly on his own and would make a mess, but Peter didn't give him a chance. "Stop undressing me! You don't get to undress me! Leave me alone!"

"Peter, you can barely stand," Mr. Stark reminded him, "You _want_ to piss your pants?"

"I _want_ you to leave me alone!" Peter said. "I _want_ you to get away from me!"

Mr. Stark grew closer to Peter hushing in his ear, "But you can't stand." Mr. Stark offered a reason. "you can barely move." This fact was frightening, and it terrified Peter to his core. It caught him in an overwhelming fury born from fear.

_This was Mr. Stark's doing! He's the one that's drugging me!_

Peter brought his hand down on Mr. Stark's solid bicep like a hammer, but the impact was less than that used to swat a mosquito. Mr. Stark tried to be patient, something Peter could tell with his constant soft pats. Peter could hear his breathing become ragged and a low, but noticeable shudder seemed to be growing outward from his core.

"Pete, maybe it'll be easier to go to the bathroom sitting," Mr. Stark said kindly.Peter hand went blindly to Mr. Stark's chest and grabbed at the man's open jacket. He yanked down with a strength that startled both himself and the older man.

"I can do it myself!"

"Peter," Mr. Stark scolded. Peter's vision began to spot.Mr. Stark blew air from his lips, making a loud hiss, "Peter, try and relax. Let's take this one step at a time?"

"FUCK OFF!" Peter screamed it loudly than he expected himself too. Never actually expecting himself to swear either. He was going to tell Mr. Stark to "STOP" or "LEAVE ME ALONE," but the curse word came out before he could stop himself.

Mr. Stark went stiff beside Peter. The silence around that was sharp like a knife. Chills tickled down Peter's spine as he stared down at the tiled floor. He was too weak to escape too scared to stare at Mr. Stark's face.Mr. Stark's hold on Peter tightened like a vice, and it made Peter gasp out at the pinching pain, "Enough of this, Peter." he ordered, voice laced with anger, "Get a hold of yourself,"

Peter's head hung as he stared at the plaid pair of boxers that clung on his hips. Mr. Stark didn't change my underwear. _Good..._ Tears were welling in his eyes, _That's not good, Peter he still is doing things to you that's not good._ Peter sniffed against the wetness in his nose trying to run down his upper lip.

"You're going to go to the bathroom, wash your hands then we're going back to the car. You understand?" Mr. Stark sounded like he would if he was Peter's father and it only made Peter feel worse as he closed his eyes and a few tears slipped out.

"Do you understand?" Mr. Stark asked after Peter remained silent.

"Yes." Peter said it small almost a whisper.

"Good," Mr. Stark said, letting out a sigh. He gently stroked a hand into Peter's hair, brushing the wavy bangs from Peter's face. "Now, look at me." Peter ignored the request; eyes still squeezed shut as Mr. Stark but pressure on his shoulder to stand up straighter. "Look at me." Mr. Stark's tone strengthened, and it made Peter respond.

Peter opened his gaze timidly, he was beyond upset that he was allowing himself to be obedient, but also curious in a fragilely painful way."Are you all right?" Mr. Stark asked, wiping a tear from under Peter's eye.Peter kept silent, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes were stinging as they filled again with tears."Are you?" Mr. Stark pressed.Peter gave a slow resentful blink as tears fell from his eyes.

"Yes," he whispered. _No, I'm not okay_. The anger drained from him as if a cork had been knocked off and the pressure was escaping bit by bit. Now only sadness and fear remained.

Mr. Stark gave him a firm nod, before turning Peter back to face the toilet. "I won't undress you.""Fine. I can do it myself.," Peter snapped, voice weak and almost scared. "Please don't touch me intimately, and don't undress me."

Peter could feel Mr. Stark nod beside him. Peter wiped his face with his free hand before reaching down to his open up the front of his boxers. Thankful to finally be rid of the consuming feeling in his bladder.

**. . .**

Mr. Stark had been gone for a long time. After they had used the bathroom, Mr. Stark had put Peter back inside the car. He had taken the tight shoes off Peter's feet and buckled him back against the passenger's seat. Mr. Stark had explained something about going and getting some dinner back inside the rest stop and told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep an eye on him. Peter had fallen in a dark circle of dismay. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight against the invisible bonds to break loose. _Why couldn't I move like normal? Anything with anesthetic properties shouldn't be able to drag me under for this long. I shouldn't have this much trouble, especially with my accelerated metabolism._

F.R.I.D.A.Y, wouldn't respond to Peter's commands either, and he didn't have the strength to lean upward to turn on the radio. He didn't even attempt to open the locked doors, knowing Mr. Stark had set the child locks so Peter was definitely trapped. No one was around, all inside or in their cars and back on the road. Peter really doubted he'd make it far with how his head swam. How he was like Bambi on the ice when he tried standing. Peter didn't have anything to distract himself except the headliner of the vehicle. It was mostly cream with specks of white and black along the fabric.

After staring at it for a while, Peter began to imagine the bits morphing into faceless figures dressed up in a black tie event, waltzing around on a large marble floorboard weaving in between each other in a harmonic memorizing display.Peter knew he was getting high on drugs again. It was incredibly terrifying for him but also left him in a state of being comfortably numb. He wondered if this what it felt like to be on marijuana. Christ! He was just a kid.

Eventually, Peter grew tired of watching the imaginary figures dance in the silence, and he turned his attention towards the large windshield. A family of four emerged from the double doors with bags of food in their hands. The kids were younger than Peter, and they chased each other around their parents racing each other towards their vehicle. That was parked right next to Mr. Stark's car.

All Peter would have to do was knock his knuckles on the window. Get their attention form words to them through the layer of glass. Do something other than sitting here, mouth hanging open like an idiot. He had to do something.Peter glanced at the father who was pressing the unlock button on his car keys, in the midst of talking to his wife who was strapping their children into their seats. Peter stared at the man hoping he'd look his way.

_Come on just look at me, please._

The man's mouth moved, but Peter couldn't hear what was being said. He watched the man put his take-out bags of food in one hand and began to open the door.

_Please just turn around!_

The man Peter could see in the neighboring car was resetting his seat, turning around to say something to his kids. Peter held his breath, _just turn your head towards me_. When the man does, Peter and the man share a blank stare. It all happened too quickly for Peter to react. The man slightly tipped his head down in a slight nod. The man craned his neck back losing the desperate contact Peter needed and began to back out of the parking lot.

Peter missed his chance, probably his only chance. He let his head thunk against the headrest and let out a groan of despair.Not too soon after, Mr. Stark walked through the double doors of the rest stop, holding two disposable coffee cups and balancing two boxed sandwiches on his forearms. Once Mr. Stark came back into the car, he sat the mugs into the cupholders and brought the food into Peter's line of view."Turkey or ham?" Mr. Stark asked, teeter-tottering the boxed sandwiches in his hands.

"Why are you always feeding me?" Peter closed his eyes, hearing Mr. Stark set the packaged food on the center console and a cold hand touched Peter's forehead. Peter knew he should have flinched maybe pull away from the man, but Peter just held still. Almost holding his breath fighting the urge to lean into Mr. Stark's hand."I thought you weren't going to touch me, anymore." Peter said, keeping his eyes closed.

"I'm just checking to see if you have a fever." Mr. Stark explained, "Are you not hungry?"

Peter was actually starving had been for a while. "Ham," he decided, feeling grateful for something to fill his stomach other than the feeling of angry killer wasps buzzing around his insides. Peter opened his eyes at the sense of Mr. Stark pushing the boxed sandwich into his hands. He gave Mr. Stark a quiet thanks, and he couldn't look Mr. Stark in the eye at the moment. (Peter knew what it was like, Mr. Stark's eyes were warm and dark brown. He had flecks of gold just around the pupils. Anytime Mr. Stark looked at him it made Peter feel like he was the only one that mattered. Which now in a haunting way. Might be true.) But right now he was scared to look into those eyes. Terrified of what he might find.

_Were Mr. Stark's eyes going to grow red like those cheesy cartoon villains?_

_No,_ Peter thought beginning to unwrap the sandwich slowly, his fingers felt like wiggly worms, but at least he could control them a bit, _Mr. Stark isn't evil. Just something is wrong that's why Mr. Stark is acting the way he is, why he is doing what he's doing._

Peter began to tear off bite-sized pieces of his sandwich, hearing beside him Mr. Stark's throat click from drinking from his coffee mug. He settled into a rhythm of pinching the small sandwich pieces flat before pushing them into his mouth. It was difficult to lift his hand to his mouth, but he would make it after a few failed attempts. Aunt May used to tell Peter not to mutilate his food, said that it was disgusting. Uncle Ben would never say anything; his table manners had been far worse, especially when the Parker family had sloppy Joe's for dinner.

"You can ask me, you know?" Mr. Stark said, unwrapping his sandwich.

"Ask you about what?"

Peter didn't know why he was dancing around the topic. He did want answers, but he was so scared of what might come out of Mr. Stark's mouth. He was confused by this whole ordeal, and just irritated that he still felt so weak. Peter smushed another chunk of the sandwich between his two fingers, and mayonnaise began to ooze out from the sides and coated his thumb.

"My mind. It breaks sometimes," Mr. Stark explained, placing a napkin on Peter's knee."What do you mean?" Peter asked, after stuffing the piece in his mouth and began to suck at his thumb to get the condiment off.

"Uh," Mr. Stark stopped to take a bite out of his sandwich, "After Siberia, and Rogers. I-" Mr. Stark rubbed at his temples like he was at the beginning stages of having a headache. "I went to a dark place. I mean, I was already there, but I went further down." Mr. Stark shook his head like he was fighting things inside of his mind. "I thought by working in the lab, making more suits. Make things that protected everyone, that it would help. I even went to therapy about my paranoia with everything happening." Mr. Stark rubbed at his face, staring over at Peter, "I should have never asked you to come to Berlin. It would've helped if you never stepped into my damaged life, Peter."

Peter placed his sandwich onto his lap, "I wanted to go, Mr. Stark."

"After I practically forced you."

Peter shook his head, "No, I really do want to be an Avenger, Mr. Stark."

"No, no, Peter. You're a kid. Just a kid."

Peter's temper flared, but he shoved another piece of sandwich into his mouth. He didn't know what Mr. Stark was getting at and honestly starting a fight wouldn't lead to Peter finding answers.

"Christ ! Something about you just makes me want to protect you from everything. Everything that little witch put inside my head."

_Was Mr. Stark talking about the Scarlet Witch?_

"All the mistakes I've made just collect up here." Mr. Stark tapped his temple, "I thought not speaking with you. Almost treating you like my good ol' father did with me would help but-" Mr. Stark stopped, grinding his teeth as he stared out of the window, "Truth is, I just need to keep you safe. I decided to make you a new suit for you with a lot more features than the original. More intuitive maybe that would protect you before it comes, but it's not enough."

"Until what comes?" Peter's getting terrified at Mr. Stark's words. He had long ago left his sandwich to lay against his lap. His fingers twitched from the fear blossoming.

"My legacy. What I brought to Earth during the invasion in New York." Mr. Stark was leaning against the steering wheel; hands clasped over his face.

Peter with a broken heart watched as his mentor trembled slightly,"I didn't know that." Peter whispered, his throat clenching from seeing Mr. Stark this way, "I didn't know you were feeling this way."

"Of course not!" Tony chuckled, sounding bitter. "I went to therapy meetings and went on prescription drugs, but the truth is. I can't stop. I don't want to stop. There's something coming, and I'm not going to stop until I can fix this. This is my doing, and you're not going to be a part of it, Peter. You can't be.Peter stared into Mr. Stark's now manic eyes, knowing he must have looked terrified because soon Mr. Stark expression softened and said, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be seeing this side of me. This had been blown out of proportion I-" Mr. Stark closed his eyes as if he was in pain, "I keep fucking things up, Peter."

They sat quietly as Peter's mind went in a hundred different directions until he broke the silence with, "Do you still feel like that?" Peter glanced down at his half-eaten sandwich, "You're broken brain? Now that you have-" Peter stopped, knowing that he needed to be careful with his words. Mr. Stark's mental health was unstable especially if he wasn't taking his medication, "Now that you're protecting me? Do you still feel like you have a broken brain?"

"I feel like it never really pieces itself back together." Mr. Stark said, resting his head against the headrest. "But," Mr. Stark leaned up slightly and began to tap on the steering wheel, "my brain has been working better since you've been in my company." Mr. Stark chuckled leaving Peter feeling uneasy. Mr. Stark stopped laughing then said seriously, "In some screwed up way, I'm so sorry, Peter."

Peter didn't know if he could do this, handle all of this. But he knew he would have to try, anything to get Mr. Stark better and to save himself. "We'll figure this out," Peter said, reaching his shaky hand to Mr. Stark's forearm. They looked at each other both eyes shining in terror, " We'll figure this out together, Mr. Stark."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! How's this going to go I wonder? Well don't be shy leave your comments and concerns below! I'm going to make sure I respond to all of you. You guys are seriously so so kind. I can't thank you enough! Much love!


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> NONCON Drug Use  
> Kidnapping  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders
> 
> Still here after those warnings? Enjoy! :)

When Peter woke up, he had no idea where he was. Fear prickled against his skin as small bumps formed. He took in a deep breath and reminded himself to remain calm. _Mr. Stark isn’t evil. He hasn’t brought you to his lair… yet._ Peter pried his eyes opened and tried focusing on the first few things that came into view. Except all his eyes could focus on was the expansion of a white ceiling. He stared at it questioningly no matter what that wasn't going to tell him anything. His head felt like dead weight. After trying miserably and failing he couldn’t even lift his head to look around. That was going to be a problem. So Peter decided to focus on his other senses.

Peter knew his back was against a firm bed, the oversized sweater he was wearing had bunched itself up under his armpits. The cold air around him hit his exposed stomach leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Peter shifted his arms around and numbly took hold of the sweater, trying his best to pull it down his stomach. He couldn’t get a secure grip on the fabric it was like his fingers couldn’t operate the simple commands of his brain. He somehow managed to press his palms against the fabric and push down only it getting it down past his ribs. Peter’s legs were spilling over the edge of the bed, and he could feel the tightness of his new shoes on his feet. Small moments of what had happened before flashed simultaneously within Peter’s mind.

Mr. Stark had pulled him out of the car again, unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing the warm blanket off of him. Peter recalled a stinging pain in his arm from Mr. Stark’s grip that was tight and secure. It didn’t help Peter’s stumbling and wobbles as the older man directed him into a blinding darkness that Peter wasn’t sure was caused from it being in the middle of the night or if his eyes were closed.

They must’ve gone into a building, and Peter could remember chilly air then something remarkably warmer. He recalled Mr. Stark pulling him in an elevator and leaning against Mr. Stark’s chest. Peter had wanted Mr. Stark to stop holding him so tightly. Everything to his head to his feet felt like goo, and all he wanted was to lay down.

Peter’s mouth felt so dry he doubted he’d be able to form words let alone audible sounds. His could barely keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds. The light came in and out, in and out until nothing.

 Now while laying down on this bed, it made Peter want to flee. He still felt like a pile of goo, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up properly, but he had to try.

 “Peter? How are you feeling?”

 Mr. Stark’s voice was almost a whisper. It made Peter’s insides twisted as he blinked downward to see Mr. Stark leaning over him.

Even in the dim lighting, Peter could tell Mr. Stark was exhausted. Under Mr. Stark’s eyes were two deep half-moons the color of violet. His eyes bored into Peter’s in a glassy haze. The drive must’ve worn out the older man and Peter couldn’t have the ounce to care about it. Not when Mr. Stark was going off the deep end and decided to drag Peter along with him.

Peter pursed his lips and turned his head to the side, seeing a wooden headboard and the well-ironed floral bedspread. He moved his arms down wobbly as he covered his exposed stomach. Peter didn’t want Mr. Stark to see any part of his exposed body ever again. He didn’t want Mr. Stark even to touch him.

 “Let’s take your shoes off, Pete.”

Peter was about to shake his head. He wanted to tell Mr. Stark, _no_ , but his throat felt so dry. When he tried, it only came out in a series of sighs and a low groan. Peter scrunched up his face in silent agony as Mr. Stark gingerly took hold of his ankle and started to undo the laces.

“You’re doing a lot better than I expected, Peter. Thank you for being patient with me.”

 As if Peter had a choice as if Peter wasn't on so many drugs clouding his judgment. Peter bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the corner of his eyes prickled as tears formed. He wanted to push Mr. Stark off of him. To kick and scream for help, to run away as far as he could. He wanted to call Aunt May. Aunt May who Peter was sure was freaking out back in Queens wondering where her nephew had gone.

 Peter made a low whimpering noise and stared up at the ceiling. Exhaustion was hitting him again with full force. He needed to stay awake. He couldn’t keep falling asleep. Not when he had no idea what Mr. Stark would do to his unconscious body.

  _Mr. Stark isn’t evil._ He reminded himself hotly. _There’s no way, he would do something like that. He wouldn’t._

 “You’ll only have to endure a couple more doses to keep you calm, okay?” Mr. Stark asked while slipping Peter’s shoe off his foot and letting the shoe drop onto the floor. “We’re in a hotel tonight and tomorrow we’ll be at our new home. I need you to hold out until then.”

 Peter’s stomach twisted in knots and he tried to lift his knees upward to get away, but Mr. Stark’s gentle touch to his left knee made him halt in his actions, “Peter, you’re going to be fine. You’re safe with me.”

 Peter almost cringed when Mr. Stark’s hand reached up and caressed against his cheek. He almost gagged at the fact that it didn’t matter what Mr. Stark had been doing to him. Peter still felt a rush of affection for him. Blame the countless of years hero worshipping Tony Stark or everything the man had done for Peter with his Spider-Man career. However, with recent events, Peter shouldn’t want Mr. Stark to touch him, and he doesn’t, but he couldn’t stop the yearning for it. He couldn’t stop how it felt when the older man did. Mr. Stark soon left Peter alone on the bed. Peter could see the light get turned on from his left side. As a rush of water followed quickly behind it.

 _Come on,_ He told himself thrusting his shoulder over to the side and tried to get onto his belly, _I can’t sit still and take this anymore._

After a few failed attempts of flopping on the bed like a fish. Peter finally tumbled his body over and landed with a soft thud on the mattress. Cheek was digging into the comforter his breathing sounded loud and shallow. Drool flooding from his mouth as he fought the urge to lose his dinner against the floral display beneath him.

Peter tried taking in what was around him. Focusing on anything that he could use to his advantage. He noticed his hazy reflection from a black screen of a television staring blankly back at him. The hanging art beside it of a lakeside view, and an oak dresser with a mirror reflecting the headboard.

There wasn’t a phone, no alarm clock to tell Peter the time. Nothing that he could grab hold of and use it to protect himself. Peter’s blood started to coil hotly has he threw up his arm towards his face. Surprised that it worked, and became to shimmy with the sleeve to check the time on his watch.

When he gets the wool to part ways from his wrist. Peter’s stomach began to curl inward as he stared down at his bare wrist. There was no way; he hadn’t taken it off. He didn’t remember Happy or Mr. Stark, slipping the watch off back in the parking garage either. Where was it? He needed it.

Peter’s breathing started to quicken as he turned his head and wrestled with his other sleeve and whined out when he noticed another bare wrist.

Did he lose it in the car? At the rest stop?

Peter let out a low wail and shoved his face against the duvet. He tucked in his hands near his chest and tried to pull himself up in a sitting position. He could only make it half way before falling against the covers. In a groan of exasperation, Peter couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark’s voice came from around the side, ”sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Through a flash of remembrance, Peter recalled Mr. Stark’s words, _“Happy, get rid of Peter’s stuff. I don’t want anything of Peter’s around here. We can’t take any chances.”_

Peter opened his mouth only to have wails fill the silent room. Peter felt Mr. Stark’s hand start to caress his exposed back and he shifted to his side. Peter tucked in his legs and hid his face from the man. He could hear Mr. Stark’s soft words, trying to soothe him, but Peter’s cries were much too loud, and they drowned out the man’s voice.

“Peter, talk to me.”

Peter shook his head, trying to form words but anytime he opened his mouth a fresh new batch of wails came instead.

“I don’t understand.” Mr. Stark said, kneeling on the bed beside Peter.

Of course Mr. Stark didn’t understand! How could he? Peter was too out of his mind to form a complete sentence.

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Mr. Stark placed a hand and fingered through Peter’s hair.

“No, no.” Peter’s shook his head, trying his best to move away from Mr. Stark’s warm hands.

“No?” Mr. Stark questioned, leaning in close. Peter could smell the intoxicating cologne again and against his better judgement wanted to lean into Mr. Stark’s body. 

 _What was happening to him?_  
  
“Peter, breathe before you hyperventilate.” Mr. Stark cautioned, carding through Peter’s curls. Peter breathed in the scent of Mr. Stark that alone unbeknownst to him was calming him down.  
  
Peter closed his eyes when a particular caress form Mr. Stark’s hand tickled his forehead. Peter licked his dry lips and finally said, “My watch.” And twisted his wrist from in between his chest and knees and presented it to Mr. Stark.  
  
“I don’t remember you wearing one.” Mr. Stark said, fingering around a curl against Peter’s scalp.  
  
“I was,” Peter argued, tossing his head back from the man.  
  
Mr. Stark shifted closer both hands now cradling Peter’s head, “I’ll get you a new one.”  
  
Peter’s face scrunched up as tears flowed down his cheeks. He could see Mr. Stark’s face break suddenly in anguish as he came closer.  
  
“N-no.” He hiccuped between cries, “It’s Uncle Ben’s watch. Not-” he cut off as pressure started to build and he hid his face against the bed, “Uncle Ben’s watch.”  
  
He let his mouth open against the bed as his muffled sorrows filled around the room, if anything happened to that watch, to Uncle Ben’s watch. He needed Aunt May, needed to call her. Christ! She must be out of her mind right now wondering where he was. Not that Peter could tell her, because he had no idea. However, he needed his aunt he needed her comfort.  
  
“Oh, fuck.” Mr. Stark said, pulling a reluctant Peter closer to his chest. “Don’t worry we’ll find it. I’ll call Happy and get it, Peter. Dammit!” He cursed while rubbing Peter’s back.  
  
Peter whimpered out, trying unsuccessfully to pull out of Mr. Stark’s grip and after plenty of failed attempts he slumped against the man. Breathing in more of the intoxicating scent.  
  
They laid there; Peter muffled cries against the older man’s chest, and Mr. Stark drawing circles on his back.  
  
“I’ll get the watch back, sweetheart.” He promised and started to drag his hand up over Peter’s shoulder and took hold of Peter’s arm.  
  
Peter who was too distracted by the man’s scent and how close Mr. Stark was to him. He didn’t realize the man was pull at his sleeve to be all the way up past his elbow.  
  
“Wha-what’re you doing?” Peter asked, trying to free his arm.  
  
“I told you just a few more doses until we get home.” Mr. Stark responded letting go of Peter and went towards the oak dresser. Peter watched terrified as Mr. Stark opened the top of his black bag and rummaged through it to find a bottle of clear liquid with a label Peter couldn’t make out in the dim lighting.  
  
“Forgot it!” Peter yelled, squirming to get towards the head of the bed.  
  
Mr. Stark ignored this, reading the label and set the small bottle aside. Then took out a slender wooden box. Inside was a glass syringe, and Peter flinched the moment he saw it. "I said no!" Peter cried.  
  
"Quiet!” Mr. Stark snapped, “it’s just a small prick,“ he looked towards Peter as the boy tried shifting away. He took out a wipe and started cleaning the needle's tip. "You need to calm yourself and recover, that is what you need. Today’s been too stressful for you. This will help.”  
  
Peter tipped his head back and looked at Mr. Stark. “Please?” Peter’s voice was low with nervousness, “I’m just scared, and I’m sad about the watch. If Happy can bring it back then that would be amazing. but-” He could feel his underarms prick with sweat, “I’ve already had so many drugs today. I don’t want anything else.”  
  
“Pete, I think this will be good for you.”  
  
"What?" Peter whispered, eyes widening with shock. "No, no, are you nuts?"

That probably wasn’t the best thing for Peter to say.  
  
Mr. Stark approached filling the syringe. His face neutral as he focused on the task, "one small poke. It's slow acting. You’ll be drowsy. You should take a bath then afterward you’ll sleep easy," Mr. Stark said, sounding pleased. "You're sleeping will be heavy and restful. I’m kind of jealous I’m in need of a sleep like that.”  
  
Peter panicked with the sound of confidence in the older man’s voice. "Mr. Stark, listen…" He croaked, squirming back onto the pillows. "I think…think I am fine," He said softly.  
  
Mr. Stark came close to Peter taking hold of his left arm, “I’ll be quick. You’ll feel much better after a nice rest.”  
  
Mr. Stark began to pull at Peter’s sleeve again, and the younger boy started to panic he reached down and tried to bat the man away. "I don't need it!" Peter was barely coordinated enough to slap at Mr. Stark’s hands. He managed two flighty swipes before gripping his arm defensively and closing his eyes with humiliation. "I am fine! I am fine! I’ll do what you want.”  
  
Mr. Stark wasn’t impressed as he gripped Peter’s arm tightly, "Peter, you need to take this," He said, with a bit of scolding. "please try and understand."  
  
Peter shook his head as Mr. Stark reached down and captured both of Peter’s wrists in a single grip. Peter’s arms felt so weak he could only manage a few slight jerks that did not affect the older man. “It’ll be a small poke than that’s it I promise.”  
  
Peter’s breathing sounded like he had been running for miles and he trembled in Mr. Stark’s grip. He was too scared to cry out. Terrified of what Mr. Stark would do, but he didn’t want this. He didn’t know what to do.  
  
Tears welled in his eyes as Mr. Stark carefully pulled at his arms to straighten them. “Easy there, Peter," He said, “you’re going to be fine.”  
  
Peter squeezed his eyes closed and flinched his body backward. "I-I don't think In-need it," Peter croaked, testing the strength of his arms, but they felt locked in Mr. Stark’s hand, and legs were useless to kick. Physically he was powerless, and in his head, a high pitched sound was slowly growing louder. "Please, I feel better. I am sorry I was freaking out. I’m just scared, Mr. Stark please." He was begging, quietly with shame.  
  
"I…" Peter gapped uselessly. He opened his eyes and threw his gaze about himself for any means of escape, but there was nothing. He didn't have strength left in himself to stand up probably, never mind argue his way free. "I…"  
  
Peter noticed in the television’s reflection his horrified expression, and that was the tipping point. He jerked his legs inward as much as possible and tipped his head down to hide with stomach clenching in mortification. "Don't do this to me!" he cried. "Come on! Please, please, don't do this to me."  
  
Mr.Stark stroked his hand through Peter’s hair with immediate concern, but Peter pulled away from the touch. He had begun a constant squirming of suffering, and loud noises started to erupt from his mouth.  
  
Peter had gone stiff as a hand slid directly over his mouth. The grip wasn’t forceful and couldn’t have stopped his cries, but the action was enough. It silenced Peter with shock. He stared into intimidating dark eyes and shrunk inward.  
  
“It’ll be all right, Peter,” Mr. Stark whispered, as he lifted the sleeve again. “I’m only helping you.”  
  
Peter was too degraded to respond, and only moved with the stab of the single injection. Then he bared his teeth, and his expression collapsed in utter sorrow and despair. The sudden prick woke what little was left, and Mr. Stark hugged Peter to him tightly. The strength of his arms caused a bit of breath to press free of Peter’s mouth barely audible but circulated the room,  
  
“Why are you doing this to me?”  
  
Mr. Stark didn’t answer only hugged Peter tighter, shoving his face in Peter’s neck.  
  
Peter felt lifeless. He slumped back against the pillows with an absent gaze of saddened disinterested and the single tear rested on his cheek. He watched silently as Mr. Stark took care of his arm and put away the medical tools.  
  
“Why?” Peter asked again, just as Mr. Stark began to get up from the bed.  
  
Mr. Stark took a deep breath and looked towards Peter face broken with grief.  “We'll talk about this later Pete, that I promise." He wiped the single tear off Peter’s face, but Peter didn't move. “Right now I just want you to relax.”  
  
Peter watched as Mr. Stark stood up and studied Peter’s shrunken body. It made Peter feel like somehow he'd been reduced three times in size and this scared him.  
  
After a while of Peter staring at the ceiling and hearing Mr. Stark mo about the room. He felt the older man’s hand on his shoulder.  
  
”You’ll feel much better in a bath,” Mr. Stark assured, reaching forward to grab hold of Peter’s wrists. “Then to bed right afterward.”  
  
Peter shook his head, and let out a cry when Mr. Stark pulled him forward towards the edge of the bed.  
  
“It won’t be bad at all. You need to take one.”  
  
Mr. Stark in one hand gripped Peter’s wrists together, and the other slipped down to take hold of the edge of the sweater. Peter shook his head again, leaning backward away from the man. But it seemed only to help the man get him out of his shirt.  
  
In one swift moment, Peter’s chest was bare to Mr. Stark, and he fell back against the bed. Peter laid with his bare back against the covers and his eyes glassy with tears as he stared up at the ceiling. His bottom lip was trembling as he tried to cover his chest, but his wrists were still bound in Mr. Stark’s hands.  
  
“I don’t want-“ He hiccuped, But Mr. Stark hushed him softly a hand tapping against his lips.  
  
“Pete, you’ve been sweating all evening. I’m sorry, but you smell. It’ll be a quick bath. You’ll relax better, come on.”  
  
What Peter didn’t respond to the effects of the drug was dragging him down into becoming drowsy. The fact he did not protest probably meant consent or at the very least forbearance for Mr. Stark to work with.  
  
Peter was pulled against the older man and dragged limply into the heavily lit bathroom. He walked with knobby knees and squinted his eyes together.  
  
Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he leaned against the older man. Mr. Stark reached over to the brass knob attached to the tub and twisted it quickly. The hot water responded, and water hit the enamel tub in a raging burst.  
  
Carefully Mr. Stark shifted Peter to sit in the rim of the tub. Peter scrunched down in on himself feeling a series of grief bubble upon him. He felt degraded and mortified to a point the noose around his soul was almost too tight to handle. He was numb and pliable, and in-between the loud and angry thoughts that welled up inside him there was a haunting silence of nothingness.  
  
"Pete, it's probably best if you just let yourself relax and…not think about it."  
  
Peter didn’t respond only stared down at the tiled bathroom floor through the haze of his tears.  
  
“You’re doing well,” Mr. Stark reassured, “ l wouldn’t say so otherwise.”  
  
Peter only shook his head and turned away from Mr. Stark’s voice. He bit into his cheek, blinking away the tears that fell around his cheeks.  
  
“I’ll turn around.” Mr. Stark said, placing a towel on Peter’s lap, “wrap this around you then I’ll help you get into the tub.”  
  
Peter gripped at the towel and took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t see himself being able to divert this. Nor could Peter be stubborn and Mr. Stark would undoubtedly force him to take his clothes off. There wasn’t anything he could do. Peter reached down towards his waistline his left arm prickled from the soreness left over from the injection. He gritted his teeth together and wiggled his pants and underwear off.  
  
Pooled around his ankles and Peter quickly shook them off his feet, wrapping the towel around his waist hastily.  
  
“Okay,” he mumbled out, wrapping his arms around his stomach.  
  
“Okay,” Mr. Stark agreed to turn around and only looked towards Peter’s face. He stepped over and grabbed hold of Peter’s shoulders and with great attentiveness helped Peter into the tub.  
  
Peter sighed out as the warm water hit his skin and he sunk in as far as he could, gripping the towel around his waist protectively.  
  
He watched as Mr. Stark reached forward and stopped the water with the tub when it was about half full. “Is it warm enough?”  
  
Peter nodded and pulled his knees towards his chest. In silence, the intense warmth of the water had caused him to begin shivering and nearly everywhere he was coated in goosebumps. A contrast from the chilly air from the hotel room.  
  
Mr. Stark grinned and retrieved a washcloth from the sink and lathered it with soap. He dipped the sudsy cloth into the warm tub and brought it to Peter’s back. Peter twitched with the sudden warm contact and took hold of the tub rim for balance.  
  
He saw from the corner of his eye Mr. Stark, kneeling at the side. The older man leaned down and began to scrub at Peter’s back in large circles as if he were cleaning a glass window. "Peter I’m so sorry about this.”  
  
Peter slipped his eyes closed and leaned over the rim of the tub, hiding his face against his arm. Where he cringed when he smelled in his offensive body odor.  
  
“What are you sorry about now?” He asked, turning his head away and leaned his cheek against his knees.  
  
“Everything,” Mr. Stark replied, and he ran the washcloth up to Peter’s shoulders.  
  
Peter shifted slightly and stared off in the corner of the room, “what’s in that drug? Your cologne? It makes me feel weird. I feel like how I was before the bite, but not quite. I-“  
  
Peter’s expression tightened, cranking his mouth down into a sharp frown that wobbled his bottom lip. Mr. Stark reached under his armpit. The scent of lavender filling his nostrils as Mr. Stark scrubbed then said,  
  
“Let’s not talk anymore. You’re going to fall asleep soon and I’d rather you stay awake when I answer that.”  
  
Peter bit his lip and turned his head towards Mr. Stark who was busying himself with the bottle of soap and filled the washcloth back up with ringlets of the liquid cleanser.  
  
“When we get to wherever we’re going, Mr. Stark. I want answers. Real answers to my questions.”  
  
Mr. Stark stopped what he was doing and stared back at Peter. Those vibrant dark eyes against amber. The predator against the prey. “of course, Peter.” he said, nodding, ”Just not tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys! You're all so amazing! I hope you're still enjoying the story and let me know if you have any comments or concerns. Much love! :)


	4. FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS  
> Kidnapping  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders
> 
> Still here? Well, have a wonderful time reading! :)
> 
> Any mistakes are my own and feel free to point them out so I can fix them! Much love! <3

**FOUR**

If Peter was thankful for anything during this night terror was that Mr. Stark hadn’t tied him up. Victims in films were always tied to the bed. Still Peter couldn’t really move. Each time he shifted his body even a little, sick rose in his throat and his head spun round. His eyes remained shut the damp smell from the hotel room had gone now replacing a smell of pine. He knew they must have left the hotel room. But Peter couldn’t remember if he had awoken or if Mr. Stark carried him out like a father would a child.

Peter’s stomach flipped and he snuggled in closer to the pillow his head rested on. He was in different clothing than before. Still baggy and soft against his skin. Peter somewhat remembered Mr. Stark laying him down on the hotel bed. His body exposed to the older man’s gaze and suddenly being handled around like a rag doll. As Mr. Stark pulled on clothes for him to wear.

Sounds came from the man’s mouth but Peter couldn’t understand a word. Fingers pressed into tender spots on his shins and knees and Peter could only guess that Mr. Stark was fussing over his bruised skin. Only Peter couldn’t explain about the bruises. Not that he could understand where they came from. They’d be gone in a few hours from his accelerated healing, but with whatever Mr. Stark was giving him. Peter was terrified that might not be the case. Everything from his senses to his reaction time seemed to slow down. Almost like it had been when he was normal, but Mr. Stark couldn’t do something like that could he?

_ I think he can. _ Peter thought grimly, tugging slightly at the blanket that was around him. He was starting to feel like he was in the middle of a fire. Peter cracked a eye open. Everything around him twisted and turned, brown and blurred.

Peter was definitely not in the hotel anymore. The walls and ceiling were wood: long logs planked tightly together. It wasn’t overly light in this room, maybe a lamp was turned on beside him, but it hurt his eyes. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and opened them slowly again, looking around cautiously. He wanted to to find Mr. Stark. He was ready to discuss what the man had promised last night. At least what Peter thought was last night.

_ Had to be.  _ He thought, bringing his hands to rub at his eyes,  _ there’s no way I wouldn’t remember at least being in a hotel room again. _

Peter tasted vomit in his mouth, and he swallowed it back. He’s mouth salivated at nausea circulated around him. He knew if he was going to puke, but he squeezed his eyes shut. There wasn’t anyway he was willing to lose the contents in his stomach. Peter had no idea where the toilet was and if he made a mess he wasn’t sure if Mr. Stark or himself would be the one to clean it up.

He didn’t want to find out. Peter’s throat felt thick, rasping and useless. He tired breathing deeply through his nose. The sounds emulating around the room gave him something to focus on.

While trying to calm his stomach. Peter mentally check down his body. All four limbs were there, Peter wiggled his fingers and toes. All were working just fine. Peter ran a hand down his stomach a new sweater pooled upward leaving his stomach exposed. Peter felt the sheet beside him and let his hands wander down to his thighs. With one shaky hand he lift the waistband of his sweatpants and plunged his hand in. Thankful to find a pair of boxers hugging his waist.

Peter let out a sigh, letting his hand feel through the fabric. He didn’t know what he expected to find, or even what he was expecting. Maybe blood. Torn flesh. Any from of pain. But there was nothing like that. He didn’t want to think of the possibility of Mr. Stark forcing himself inside of him. Peter couldn’t think that would be something the older man would do, but there were missing hours that Peter knew he couldn’t retain, and the man was manipulative already.

_ What if it was all an act? _

“Peter, get your hand out of pants.”

Peter swung his head around, trying to find the older man. His eyes still weren’t seeing clearly. Mr. Stark was beside him, he could hear that. He tried pushing himself to the other side of the bed, away from Mr. Stark, but his arms weren’t strong enough. They shook and then collapsed under his weight as he laid back down on the sheets. The blood pumped through him almost making a promise to wake himself up.

“Do you have to use the bathroom?”

Peter tried using his voice, but only managed a whimper. His mouth was against the pillowcase. Drool escaping and making a puddle against his cheek. He could hear Mr. Stark somewhere taking a step.

“I’ve got some food for you.”

Peter flinched at the older man’s voice.  _ Where was he? How close? _ Peter opened his eyes a little. It didn’t hurt as much. Next to the bed on a nightstand sat a new pair of jeans that was neatly folded the lamp beside it was the light source in the room.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark take steps coming closer towards him. Peter tried curling up, tried to get away. Everything felt heavy. Slow. But his brain was working and his heart was racing.

_ Please no more injections! _ He screamed inside his head.

When Peter blinked once more he came face to face with a pair of blue jeans. His eyes were level with the material between the older man’s knees and crotch. Mr. Stark didn’t say anything only reached down with a slight groan and put his palm against Peter’s forehead. Peter didn’t dare move. His breathing stop short as he tilted his chin upward and stared at the man’s face.

Peter didn’t know why, but he’d almost didn’t expect Mr. Stark to be there. Almost wished to see a stranger’s face and not of his idol. He didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face Peter had always found so attractive for so long. But there stood Tony Stark. Those striking dark eyes, that brown hair. Maybe it was Peter’s fucked up brain, but he couldn’t fathom the man being evil only that he was just simply beautiful.

Mr. Stark’s face was etched slightly with concern. Eyebrows knitted together as he pushed the hair off of Peter’s forehead. Something Peter was finding out was Mr. Stark’s favorite thing to do. Peter wondered if Mr. Stark was waiting on him to speak, but he kept quiet only reaching up and moving the blanket upward so just his eyes were uncovered. His eyes never leaving the older man’s. Peter knew the older man was waiting for Peter to ask the burning questions, but staring into those almost black eyes. It left Peter speechless.

“We’re home now.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re going to feel sick for a bit, from the drugs. It’ll be awhile before you start feeling normal.” Mr. Stark took a shallow breath and sat down. The bed shifted downward and Peter moved his legs away.

“Where are we?” Peter asked, his voice cracking.

Mr. Stark paused before answering. Peter watched as the man took a deep breath. His clothing rustled as he changed his position. It was then Peter realized he couldn’t hear any other sounds just Mr. Stark from his body movements to the sounds coming from his mouth.

“Right now? You’re in your room. Tonight, you can spend it in my room. I just want to know that you’re safe here. With me.”

**OOO**

After questioning about the food presented in front of Peter. Mr. Stark promised that it wasn’t laced with drugs. Peter doubted it but his stomach had given off several growls and he had given up on holding the bowl to let the older man help him with the soup. Falling in a trance with Mr. Stark’s slow movements of blowing on the steaming meal and letting his mouth fall open every time the man presented spoonfuls to him.

After a helping of chicken noodle soup and enough water to coat his dry throat Peter had fallen asleep again. He didn’t know how much longer he slept for maybe a couple of hours. Everything had been hazy, and he hadn’t had enough sense to ask Mr. Stark all those burning questions.

While coming back to reality. Peter noticed he had sweated during his rest. He felt sweaty and damp his loose clothing sticking against him. Peter could smell his stench and he brought a hand to wipe away the sweat on his brow. His bladder full and wanting to have release.

Peter laid there, listening. His ears straining to hear something. But it was silent. Weirdly so. There’s wasn’t even the creak or shuffle of Mr. Stark. There was no sound of the city. No traffic noises or sounds of people. No distant hum of a highway. No trains rumbling. Nothing. It brought a thrill of anxiety throughout Peter. There was just the room that Mr. Stark had said was Peter’s, and a warm heat emulating around him.

Peter began to test his body, cautiously lifting on leg and then the other, wiggling his toes within his socks. His limbs didn’t feel so heavy this time. Peter knew he was finally more awake. As quietly as he could, he began to push himself upward. Peter let himself look around. Mr. Stark wasn’t in here. It was only Peter. Peter, plus the queen sized bed that he was lying on. A small bedside table, a chest of drawers and a desk with a small bookcase on top. Peter’s eyes flickered across the neatly aligned books but didn’t process the titles. It slightly reminded Peter of his room back in queens except there were no pictures on the walls. Nothing that personalized Peter everything was plain, but it was comfortable.

There was a window to his left. A sheer curtain covering the outside. It was bright out there. Maybe mid-afternoon. It brought a coldness that Peter wondered if they were somewhere upstate New York? Maybe Maine? And the door to the room was right in front of Peter.

Peter waited for a few more moments, straining to hear Mr. Stark come back. Then he struggled to get to the edge of the bed. His head was spinning enough to tip him over, but he got there. He gripped the mattress and made himself breathe.

Cautiously, he put one foot on the floor. Then the other. Peter let his feet take his weight, breathing deeply in through his nose. He moved his hands over to steady himself by holding the bedside table. His vision blacked out a little, but he was able to stand. With eyes closed, listening. There was still nothing to hear.

He reached for the jeans, sitting back down on the bed and wiggling the baggy sweats off his jello legs. The jeans fit him perfectly not too loose not too tight. The button dug into his bladder and he sighed out trying to fight against his bladder losing control.

Peter noticed a pair of brown leather boots. Lace-up and sensible. Definitely not something a city boy like him would need, but if Peter could guess he wasn’t in the city anymore. Peter knew with his sock covered feet it would be much quieter to escape. So, he grabbed for the boots and tucked them under his arms. If anything it would be a good weapon to smack Mr. Stark with if he had to.

Peter got up and stumbled slightly for the door, trying his best to be as quiet as he possibly could. The flooring was a cream color fuzzy carpet that reminded Peter faintly of a cloud. He shook his head and wondered when his body and mind would stop the nonsense of being on the drugs and stepped forward again.

His legs felt stiff, but he got to the door, and he pressed down on the handle. Thankful that the door wasn’t locked. It was darker on the other side. When his eyes adjusted, he saw there was a long corridor everything encased with wood, and sharp corner leading down to somewhere Peter had no idea where. There were four doors along the walls. Two to his left two to his right, and one at the end. All of them were shut and Peter wondered if there had to be a bathroom at least in one of the rooms around him.

The floor creaked slightly when he took his first step. He froze at the sound, but there were no noises from behind any of the doors, nothing to suggest that anyone had heard, so he took another step. His mind working on which door could possibly lead to his escape or at least a bathroom so he could go. Christ, he needed to.

But how many chances would Peter have to escape? Perhaps only one? He crept along the corridor towards the wall that would hid him until he could peer over to see if Mr. Stark was there. He knew when he would get away he could just pee outside. He didn’t care at the moment. He just needed to safely get away. He could run and find someone to help him. He’ll find somewhere to go and get back to Queens.

Peter still couldn’t hear Mr. Stark anywhere the silence bringing his heart to thump against his chest. Peter pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself. The wood was glossed over to prevent splinters and Peter wondered if they had gone to Finger Lakes? He wasn’t sure if they were inside a cabin or maybe lodge. It seemed like he was on a second level and his breathing began to become fast.

He was panting like a dog. Sweat was running from his scalp and down his neck. Along his back and into his jeans.  _ How many days had passed?  _ Peter’s eyes scanned everything as he got closer to the wall with the blindspot. He tried taking small, quiet steps. Even though he wanted to scream and panic. He knew he had to keep control. He had to keep calm and focus on getting out of here.

His back went against the wall, slowly creeping his head out to the side only not to be face to face with Mr. Stark but a balcony that shed more gray light into the lodge. Peter stepped out and made his way across the corridor taking in the luxurious house. Anger pooling inside him at the thought of Mr. Stark taking him to a resort or some fancy getaway like he wasn’t trying to keep Peter against his will.

Peter found the stair and slipped down them carefully, going past the homey living room and slipping into the kitchen.

The kitchen was just as spacious as the other rooms and to his right there was a island in the middle. Cupboards all around and the curtains were drawn. There was a door at the end showing a long expansion of a patio.

_ Outside.  _ Peter thought,  _ Freedom. _

Peter  edged along the wall toward it. The pain in his bladder got worse, the jeans becoming too tight against his swollen belly. But he got to the door. Peter put his hand against the cold handle then pressed down. He expected it to be locked. But it wasn’t. He gulped down. How was not locked?

Suddenly Peter then snapped to attention and started pulling the door toward himself. He opened it wide enough for his body to slip through, and stepped straight out. Thankful that a alarm system didn’t sound through the lodge.   


The clouded sunlight hit him immediately. Everything was enclosed with a gray lighting. It was chilly and seemed fresh. Peter’s mouth began to water instantly. He leaned back into the doorway, breathing in the fresh air. There was a small distinct odor of smoke but Peter couldn’t pinpoint where it was.

Peter looked around. There was no movement anywhere, no sign of Mr. Stark at all. Besides the lodge, there were two other cabins over to his right. There was a wood shack with a stove that emulated the smoke. Peter walked on wobbly legs stepping down the patio and onto the leaf covered ground. It was wet and it soaked into his socks. He didn’t bother slipping his shoes on. It only would slow him down.   
  
Peter made a sort of choking noise. As far as Peter could tell, there was nothing but trees. A thicket of forest and a lake leading out to the horizon. He was in lumberjack territory and the city that embedded in himself screamed that he wouldn’t survive.

Peter turned circling around himself. There were no other buildings. No roads. No people. No telephone wires or sidewalks. No anything. Just emptiness. Just trees and water. He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand, and waited for the pain that told him he wasn’t in a nightmare.

Peter knew as soon as he set off that it was hopeless. Where would he run to? Everywhere looked the same. The only thing that made Peter wonder why Mr. Stark didn’t lock the door, why he didn’t tie him up. Peter could run off into the woods or go swimming in the lake. There might not be civilization for miles but at least Peter could get away.   
  
 Peter legs were stiff and slow to get going, the muscles in his thighs hurting immediately. His feet stung from the cold ground. Twigs and leaves littered around the damp ground and Peter gritted his teeth when he stepped on something spikey. Peter kept going, his bladder aching with every step. He wanted to get to the woods pull down his pants after running for awhile and relieve himself. He started to pick up the pace. He fixed his eyes on some distant point on the edge of the forest and ran.

Peter’s breath rasped, and his feet stung. He heard something buzzing but he kept going. He got about a few feet from the edge of the woods when a shock halted him to stop. His body seized in a fit of shakes. He was too shocked to shout out, he fell backward his head smacking against the ground. Peter’s breath escaping him as he laid on the ground, eyes wide and staring off into the clouded sky.

“Peter? What the  _ hell  _ are you thinking?”

Mr. Stark was above him, arms crossed and staring down at the boy. Who had started to whimper pitifully.

“What the hell?” Peter asked, voice quivering.

“Come on.” Mr. Stark sighed, reaching down to help the boy up, “around the perimeter there’s a invisible fence. No one can get in-” He paused, brushing Peter’s back and behind to get the leaves and dirt off, “or out unless I want them too.”

Peter stared at Mr. Stark with tearful eyes, backing away from him slowly and began screaming out into the wood. He cried loudly as Mr. Stark stood beside him and shook his head slightly.

“No one is going to hear you.”

Peter began to step further away as Mr. Stark began to advance on him. Peter tried zigzagging, thinking it might slow Mr. Stark down. Peter was half-crazy, gulping and sobbing and wheezing for air. But Mr. Stark remained calm, stepping over to block Peter in from the shockable invisible fence. Peter stopped and changed direction, but Mr. Stark only smiled and began to cage the boy in closer, stopping him everywhere Peter wanted to go. Mr. Stark was drawing Peter in, running him down. Mr. Stark knew it was only a matter of time before Peter couldn’t run any further. Like the predator and prey, except Peter was too frightened and kept going anyway. Until he eventually failed as he got closer to the place where had shocked him. 

“Are you done?” Mr. Stark asked, “You won’t find anything out there. There isn’t anyone for miles.”

Peter started crying again, great sobs coming out of him like they’d never stop. Mr. Stark grabbed Peter’s sweater at the back of the neck, pulling him toward the older man. Peter fell to the ground like a toddler about to kick and scream in a midst of a tantrum. Mr. Stark let Peter go and moved his arm close to Peter’s face. Without thinking too much fear and instincts working on overdrive Peter lifted his head, opening his mouth. He sunk his teeth down hard into the older man’s flesh. Peter heard the curses, and he knew he drew blood. He could taste it. 

Peter got up and ran towards the opposite side of the yard. Only to stop not knowing where he would be shocked again. Mr. Stark used this to his advantage and tackled into Peter from behind. This time the older man used his whole body to push Peter down. Dirt grazed his lips. And Mr. Stark was on top of him, his chest against Peter’s back. His legs against the top of Peter’s thighs.

“Get off of me!” Peter screamed, wiggling around.

“Just give in, Peter. There’s nowhere to go except for inside.” Mr Stark growled into Peter’s ear.   
  
Peter struggled again but Mr. Stark pressed down harder, holding his arms tightly against the boys sides, squeezing him enough to pinch. Peter was tasting dirt and leaves against his mouth, mixing in with the coppery metallic taste of blood. The older man’s body was heavy against his own.

Fear had won over and it was then that Peter let go of his pee, soaking himself and the man above him. His muffled scream echoing throughout the wood around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful readers! I can't believe I got another chapter out! (AKA I spent all day at the library and just had enough time to get this all out today.) Please don't hurt me for another cliff hanger! Next chapter will be a lot more explaining and in depth. I felt like Peter needed to try escaping right? Also, I'm trying to figure out a schedule to post the chapters. I get so excited to hear your guys thoughts that I post asap. But lemme know if you guys want a posted timeframe. :)


	5. FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Kidnapping  
> Mild Harm  
> Lying/Manipulation tactics  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders
> 
> Please enjoy if you're still here after those warnings.

**FIVE**

Peter screamed until his throat went hoarse. Even then, the sounds that tore out of his mouth were cracked and strained. Mr. Stark had wrapped a bloody hand around Peter’s wrist and dragged him back toward the house. The boy groaned at the strain from his wrist being pulled taut but he refused to let it be easy for the older man. He made himself heavy, kicking and screaming like a wild animal desperate to get Mr. Stark to let him go. 

He brought his hand upward and began to scratch at Mr. Stark’s hand. Even though each attempt failed tremendously Peter still tried like a cat swiping at a feathered toy. Soon Mr. Stark had both of Peter’s wrists locked in a harsh grip, dragging him through the mud and moss as they got closer towards the house.

“Honestly, Peter. You’re fifteen now.” Mr. Stark snarled after Peter laid limp as the wet leaves brushed against his back and got into his urine soaked pants, “Get ahold of yourself.”

“Sixteen,” Peter snapped back, throwing his head back. He knew that it still wouldn’t matter, “I’m sixteen now.”

Mr. Stark jerked Peter roughly that the boy made a surprised yelp, as the back of his pants filled with something slimy. Shivers ran from his back to his shoulders, he was terrified of what it could be.

“Okay, well even sixteen year olds know how to walk-” Mr. Stark pulled again, “And not to piss themselves without the use of a toilet.”

“And forty-somethings shouldn’t kidnap anyone ever! It makes them seem like a pervert, Mr. Stark! So if I don’t seem to be acting my age it’s because you aren’t either!” Peter screamed and thrashed against Mr. Stark’s grip.

Mr. Stark stopped dead and let go of Peter’s wrists towering over the boy in one swift movement. He glared down with those dark eyes that Peter always thought were so attractive but now did nothing but instill a deep rooted fear within him. In that instant Peter knew he made a mistake. The older man bent down and reached towards Peter’s arms, causing him to flinch and raise his hands up to protect his face.

“Enough.” The man, snarled, hands gripping Peter’s arms like a vice trap. His deep voice was enough to send chills down Peter’s already cold body. “Either you knock it off,” Mr. Stark gave one harsh shake making the teenager’s head snap back against the ground, “or I’ll give you another injection. Or I can tie you up?” Mr. Stark swiped at Peter’s bottom lip with his left fingers and sneered slightly, “I’ll find something to muzzle that wide trap of yours. Got it?”

Peter’s eyes began to ache looking at the man above him. Bottom lip trembling and water began to fill his eyes. With a slight jerk of his head he nodded not daring to look away from the man above him.

“I need you to calmly tell me you understand.” Mr. Stark said, pulling the teenager to his feet.

Peter allowed this, trying to find his balance as he threw his palms out in front of himself as his world tilted slightly.

“I’m waiting.” Mr. Stark said, hands wrapped tightly around Peter’s wrists while Peter stared at the slightly oozing wound he inflicted on the older man’s hand. A perfect indent of his teeth against the perfect skin of the man’s. It almost made Peter feel horrible to ruin the man’s hand like that. There was a part of him that hoped it wouldn’t scar.

“I understand.” Peter mumbled, swaying slightly to the side just to see if Mr. Stark would let him go.

“Sorry-” Mr. Stark said, tugging the boy towards the house again, “I didn’t quite catch that. Mind speaking up maybe looking at me while you say it?”

Peter gritted his teeth together, glaring up towards the man as they made for the direction of the wood shed. “I understand.” He said again. His doe eyes, boring into Mr. Stark’s.

“Good.” Mr. Stark said, letting go of Peter’s wrists and stepped behind himself to grab something.

Peter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Now fully aware of the sickening dampness in the front of his pants and the bottom half of his sweater. His back was soaked with mud and grim and he could smell his urine mixed in with the scent of his body odor. He needed a shower or bath, but he’d fight it if Mr. Stark was going to  _ watch _ or, he shivered,  _ join  _ him.

Another bolt of shivers raced up Peter’s spine as icy ringlets of water splashed against his body. Peter shrunk inward trying to get away from the water spray but Mr. Stark’s had grabbed hold of him again.

Peter sucked in a breath, “That’s freezing, Mr. Stark!”

The older man just gave Peter a small quirk of his lips then said, “Yeah, you should’ve thought about that before pissing on yourself and on me. Now strip. You’re not going inside the way you are.”

Mr. Stark angled the hose upwards as it splashed against Peter’s chest, “Are you kidding me?” He asked, tugging in the older man’s grasp to get away.

“Afraid not.” Mr. Stark replied, letting the stream of water hit Peter’s jaw then down to his stomach.

Peter let out a harsh breath and wiggled against the hold, “Forget it. I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you.”

The older man just shrugged, letting the stream of water hit just inches away from Peter’s legs, “You should’ve thought of that before you made a mess of yourself.”

Peter’s eyes squinted as he glared the man down, pulling backward as much as he could to get away.

“Either you do it yourself, or I’ll help.” Mr. Stark threatened, just as he himself started to unbutton his pants.

Peter looked away, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He stared down at the leaf colored ground , the leaves had changed in a magnitude of oranges and yellows.

“We’re not getting any younger, Peter.” Mr. Stark interrupted Peter’s stalling tactics and shot another stream of icy water at him.

“Fine!” Peter hissed, shrinking backward and began to tug his sweater off, “It wasn’t like I planned on peeing on you. Or in general.” Peter carefully pulled the sweater over his head, narrowly avoiding the urine stained fabric.

“Whatever you say,” Mr. Stark said, kicking off his pants and noticed Peter still holding the sweater in his hands. “Just leave the clothes here. I’ll take care of it later.”

Peter grimaced as he let the sweater drop with a slight thunk against the ground and moved his hands to his pants. He watched with his cheeks beginning to burn as Mr. Stark tugged out of his long sleeve shirt, revealing the strong muscles underneath.

And despite Peter being scared out of his wits, embarrassed from everything that happened in such a short span of time. He couldn’t help but think,  _ Damn, Mr. Stark is thick. _

Mr. Stark began to run the hose against his own skin the cold water giving him gooseflesh. The older man’s nipples, Peter noticed while licking his dirt covered lips, hardened in a dark rose color under the stream.

Peter snapped his attention away when his stomach began to pool with arousal. He felt sick with himself from his desired reactions of the older man.  _ This man is keeping you against your will, Peter. Get ahold of yourself. He’s been threatening you when you don’t do as he says. Literally stop! _

He shook his head and tugged his pants down his legs, keeping his boxers on just like the older man. There was no way he was going to take those off, and he hoped Mr. Stark would keep his own on.

Mr. Stark pulled Peter toward him as he reached down to shut off the water and began pulling the teen towards the house again. Peter tried to fight the urge to stare at the older man’s behind and instead glanced around the house. The trees shifted slightly in the wind and Peter could see ripples form in the lake.  Despite it being beautiful here, Peter felt like he had entered a horror film. Where the jump scares of disfigured demons were all going to be his idol, and it made Peter’s stomach twist horribly.

Mr. Stark led Peter onto the patio where they walked passed a hot tub that Peter hadn’t noticed the first time coming out here. Honestly, he didn’t really look too hard to begin with. His objective was to flee and he couldn’t even do that properly. How many comic books and cartoons did he watch about superheroes and how they were cunning enough to escape the villain? He was supposed to be a hero. So why did he just feel so useless? Ned would be so disappointed in him.

_ Don’t think of Ned right now. _ He chastises himself,  _ I can’t think of anyone back in Queens right now. _ Peter knew it would only make him break down and he had already cried enough in front of Mr. Stark. He didn’t need to add anymore if he could help it.

Mr. Stark pulled Peter into the bathroom that was attached next to the patio. He let Peter’s wrist go and the teenager immediately rubbed at the soreness he felt there. Peter watched from the corner of his eye Mr. Stark grab towels and set them aside. 

The bathroom in itself was huge and lavish, matching the same aesthetic of the house inside, with its cabin like features and woodsy feel. There was a standing shower that made up the corner with a fogged glass door. A toilet and sink on the either end and a large mirror just above the sink. Peter couldn’t see himself in the mirror and didn’t want to step forward to take in the state he was in. He already knew what he would find.

A terrified child that in the past few days had been taken from his school. Stripped countless of times in front of Happy and Mr. Stark. Drugged into a stupor in which Peter still couldn’t recall certain events. Mostly everything was fuzzy or he had been completely unconscious for it all. Mr. Stark was two steps ahead of Peter. Which made Peter feel like he was completely and utterly at a lost.

“Come on.” Mr. Stark’s words snapped Peter back into focus. He glanced over at the man and felt the heat rise from his chest towards his ears. He knew it had nothing to do with the steam now erupting from the shower head but the fact that Mr. Stark had pulled down his last remaining article of clothing and was completely bare.

“N-no.” Peter said, waving the man off, staring at his bare dirt covered feet. “I’ll take one after you if that’s okay.”

“Peter.” Mr. Stark grabbed hold of the teenager’s arm and tugged him along from his spot against the wall. “You can barely stand up straight without leaning on something for support. Just let’s get cleaned up and we’ll have lunch.”

“Oh, yeah-” Peter mockingly shrugged his shoulders, “You make it sound like this is normal. Like, oh yeah Mr. Stark I need help on my science project. Or hey can I spend the weekend with you in the lab?”

Peter saw Mr. Stark’s face grow cold but he kept going.

“Not the fact that you’re asking me to step in a shower with you. Don’t you think that’s uncomfortable?”

“You know I just don’t want you to fall over.” Mr. Stark replied opening the door for Peter to walk in. “Maybe you can be a bit mature about this?”

“Mature?” Peter asked, as he tugged his boxers off. “Mature about you kidnapping me? Are we really having this conversation?”

The older man rolled his eyes and tugged Peter inside the steamy shower. “Just get in there.” 

Peter who hadn’t fully gotten his boxers completely off from around his ankles tumbled into the tiled floor and grasped hold of the wall to support him. He stared at the floor not daring to look at the man again as he came behind him. Peter felt shivers race up his spine from the fear. As Mr. Stark came into view, presenting a bottle of soap for Peter to take.

“I’m not cleaning you. You’re capable of doing that yourself.”

**. . .**

Peter starred up at the orange glow of of the oddly constructed chandelier. It was complied of animal bones with lights perfectly placed throughout the contraption. It was interesting but came off more horrifying than anything. 

His back was against the couch in the living room. He was clean and back into a comfortable attire of sweats and a white T-shirt. Peter’s hair had been combed from his face and he was oddly relaxed despite such a humiliating shower experience.

There was a scent wafting around the room that caused this. The tart scent of cherry pie that reminded him of Aunt May’s baking and the slight twang of a spicy peppery scent. It reminded him of home. A time when Uncle Ben was around. A time where all Peter had to deal with was being bullied at school.

Not the special abilities. Not having to worry about saving the little guy. Or having a man he once idolized be a full on creep and do something so outlandish as this.

Peter wanted to fight but he didn’t even have the use of his powers. Something that still confused him. Plus, Mr. Stark had proven countless of times to be several steps ahead of him. Peter didn’t want to admit it, but he could be manipulative. He knew Mr. Stark cared for him tremendously, maybe if he could, Peter would get the man to see the error of his ways.

“Here, Pete.” Mr. Stark said, leaning over the boy presenting a packaged cheese stick and a glass of water to him.

Peter shifted slightly upward and took hold of what was presented to him and sniffed cautiously at the contents in the glass.

“It’s not drugged.” Mr. Sta rk promised, lifting Peter’s legs and sat down on the couch next to him.

Peter started to wiggle himself upward but Mr. Stark stopped him with a slight pat on his shin. “It’s fine. I’m going to check out your feet. I think you might’ve stepped on something outside.”

The teen settled back down, clutching the glass in his hand while he grasped the cheese stick in the other. He watched as Tony tilted his head down to inspect Peter’s bare feet like he was checking the under belly of a car. Mr. Stark ran a finger down Peter’s foot tickling him until a shot of pain erupted making Peter shoot his knee toward his face. Almost tipping the water out of the glass.

“You got something stuck in there.” Mr. Stark responded, his face contorted in concentration.

“My foot didn’t hurt-” Peter said, his body felt like it was melting against the couch. “What’s in that diffuser?” He asked tilting his head to see the egg-shaped machine giving off little smoke puffs of delicious smells.

“Probably from you being so dramatic earlier you masked the pain.” Mr. Stark answered as he flicked at the wound and Peter winced backward.

“As for the scent?” He trailed off, grabbing a set of tools that was beside him all while still having a firm grasp on Peter’s ankle. “It’s just to calm you down.”

“How-”

“Certain scents can trigger emotions. If  I  want you calm, I can pop that into the difusser. Or the cologne I had on this weekend. At first I thought I’d have to avoid lavender since spiders hate that plant, but you seemed more than okay with it.”

“What? I’m not actually a spider, Mr. Stark.” Peter scrunched his eyebrows together as Mr. Stark began to pick at the wound on his foot.

“No, but you’re blood is radioactive from that spider bite. There’s so much I discovered while studying it.” Mr. Stark responded, tearing the wound open with the tweezers.

“How’d you get a hold of-” Peter winced as a flashback of that night in Berlin came through his memory. 

Happy had told Peter that Mr. Stark wanted to thank him for all his work with Captain America. Peter didn’t hesitate to go to the suite of his childhood idol. He had to try and contain himself anytime Mr. Stark had looked his way or spoke to him with any kind of praising the man gave him. Never did he question the oddness when Mr. Stark had asked for a sample of his blood.

It was Tony Stark asking for something Peter could happily give. Of course when he asked why, Mr. Stark had told Peter it was because he wanted to make sure everything was okay with Peter since the spider bite.

_ “You might’ve had these powers for awhile, but let’s make sure there isn’t something that’s damaging your body.” _

Peter bit his lip, staring down at his glass in his hands. What a naive child he had been.

“I thought you were using that sample to help me.” Peter said, stomach twisting in knots.

“And I did.” Mr. Stark responded, while digging into the wound, making Peter gasp out slightly from the pain. “I just made other discovers with it as well.”

“So, those drugs you’ve been feeding in my system. That’s apart of your  _ discoveries  _ too?”

“In part yes. It suppresses your abilities for a while. It’ll be something you’ll have to take everyday.” the older man, kept digging at the wound and made Peter wince as he took a sip of the water. “It’ll act like a blockade of sorts. Think a woman taking birth control pills.”

Peter snorted into his drink, some of it splashed inside his nose as he began coughing, “Excuse me?” He wheezed.

Mr. Stark paused in his actions, looking over towards Peter with a slight grimace. “It doesn’t do anything to your powers. If you stopped taking the medication you’re powers would come back just like normal. I’m trying to explain this rationally.”

“By comparing my powers to a woman’s period?” Peter snapped, reaching over to set the glass down on the coffee table.

“In some terms, yes.” Mr. Stark agreed.

“Who on Earth would have helped you manufacture that?” Peter asked, ripping the packaging away from the string cheese. “And will those drugs make me an incoherent mess like I was these last couple of days?”

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and lifted Peter’s foot back up to examine the wound again, “Firstly look at who you’re speaking to ? Of course I’d have access to researchers who would kill to look into blood like yours. Don’t worry they didn’t know about the origins of your blood. They thought it was a random sample.” Mr. Stark shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, “Secondly, no I have two sets of drugs for you. The first one was dosages just to make you drowsy and sleep. If I need to use that type of method if you disobey-” 

The sharp edge of the tool dug into Peter’s foot as the teen groaned out in pain, “Then so be it. But the normal dosage won’t do anything to you except leave you as a normal kid. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“You keep saying that, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, pulling apart the cheese stick before putting it in his mouth to take a bite, “What are you supposedly keeping me safe from?”

Mr. Stark didn’t answer only screwed up his face as he picked at the open wound, digging to find whatever was stuck in there. Peter sat watching him, his stomach twisting around in fear and he tried his best to remain calm as he chewed his snack.

After awhile they sat in silence as Mr. Stark began to pull something blood covered out of Peter’s foot. Peter stared at it in horror swallowing around the cheese. He chewed on his bottom lip as he built up the courage to say, “Mr. Stark, my aunt is probably really worried about me.”

Mr. Stark nodded his head slightly still picking away at the teenager’s foot. Peter swallowed and tried again.

“My aunt’s a really strong woman. I mean after my uncle died. She really tried her best to be happy, but sometimes out of the blue . S he can have these episodes. No one can really pull her out it except for me, and if I’m not there-”

“I’ll take care of it.” Mr. Stark replied, eyes still focused on his task.

“What?” Peter asked, wiggling in his seat, “That’s not your job to-”

“I’ll take care of her.” Mr. Stark said, pausing in his actions and glancing up at Peter. Eyes stern against Peter’s wide eyes.

_ Mr. Stark isn’t going to see  _ _ how  _ _ wrong  _ _ he  _ _ is,  _ _ is _ _ he? _

“What about school?” Peter asked, “I can’t not be in school.”

“I’m going to homeschool you. What better education out there than from a genius like me?”

Despite it being ultimately crazy Peter couldn’t seem to disagree with Mr. Stark on that.

“What about my friends? I have a life in Queens. What about me helping the little guy out?”

Mr. Stark sighed, reaching to get the bandages and antiseptic to clean the wound.

“Peter, you’ve been in danger since I took you to Berlin. I can’t let you be out there without doing my part to protect you.”

Peter scoffed and shoved more of the cheese in his mouth, “Which begs the question about what is going to hurt me? You didn’t think about that when you let me take on Captain America? Or when you let me keep the suit. I don’t understand!”

“And look at how many times you’ve disobeyed me since we got back?” Mr. Stark snarled as he dabbed the alcohol into the wound, causing Peter to cry out from the stinging pain.

“Sorry.” the man apologized, patting Peter’s ankle with his other hand. “There’s too much to it. Just trust me okay, Peter? I didn’t know you before the fight with Rogers. I know you now, and it’s my job to keep you safe. Here. Where no one can hurt you.”

“What about my aunt? What about Ned? Spider-Man? Spider-Man can’t just up and leave New York. People will get suspicious that a poor kid from Queens disappeared the same time the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man vanished too.”

Mr. Stark smiled slightly as he wrapped gauze around Peter’s foot, “Don’t worry kid. I’ve got it covered.”

Peter highly doubted Mr. Stark did.

“I just wish you would’ve talked to me.” Peter said, just as Mr. Stark paused in his actions of cleaning the wound. “If you would’ve explained this sooner. Maybe we could’ve set something up so I could’ve spent time at the Avengers complex during the weekends. I could’ve called you after my patrols.”

Peter watched as Mr. Stark shook his head, dabbing again at the wound, “It wouldn’t have worked, Peter.”

The teenager sucked his bottom lip in, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Irritation crawling at his insides as he snuck a glance at the bloody thorn that was on a paper towel against the coffee table. Peter was astonished that it lodged its way into his foot and grimaced, “Did you have to pick somewhere in the woods to hide? I’m a native urban kid. I don’t think I’ll survive here in the woods.”

Mr. Stark chuckled tying off the bandage and glancing up at Peter again, “I think you’ll be just fine. This isn’t a forever home anyway.”

Peter was too shocked to question the man. The snack now finished turned to ash in his stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read/comment/left kudos/ bookmarked! You're all so amazing and make me strive to write as fast and well constructed story as I can! All your love fuels me! :)
> 
> Special thanks to Spade_Storm for everything you helped me out with you're absolutely amazing! The story wouldn't be any good without all your help! :)


	6. SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fiction is going to be very dark. I'll be posting before each chapter about warning as well as in the tags. Please take note of them before reading. If this isn't your cup of tea, then please don't read.
> 
> WARNING!!!! THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SOME HEAVY TOPICS!!!  
> Kidnapping  
> Non-Con Drug Use  
> Lying/Manipulation tactics  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders
> 
> AS WELL AS!!! --> There's a scene talking about PAST! Sexual molestation please be aware of that. I don't want to trigger anyone so if you see the . . . that's when it's mentioned.
> 
> Please enjoy if you're still here after those warnings.

**SIX**

“This isn’t a forever home anyway.”

Peter knitted his eyebrows together, “what do you mean by that?"

Mr. Stark shrugged, “just that it’s not, but you don’t have to worry about that now.”

Pain curls at the base of Peter’s foot. A sense of constant throbbing that made him want to kick out and scream. He wants to create other pain to drown out the pulsating spikes of pain that act like the quickening of his pulse in his neck. The yearning was maddening. He wanted to yell and punch, to jerk his legs out without a care of how it’ll affect his body. A body that was betraying him by accepting Mr. Stark’s supposed medication.

Peter wanted to do a lot of things, but currently while curled up on the sofa he laid still. His eyes glassed over as he stared into the upholstery of the couch. The cool of the leather sweeping into his clothes. He already declined Mr. Stark’s offer for pain medication. When Mr. Stark came back with his glass filled with more water.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark in the kitchen, moving things around and preparing food. Mr. Stark was mumbling to himself, but it wasn’t anything Peter could understand. The teen’s mind raced every time pain raced through him, it was acting like a beacon, a harbor that let him hold onto his sanity.

**Three Things Peter is Certain Of…**

 

  1. __Mr. Stark isn’t going to kill me. He would’ve done it by now, unless he’s thinking about waiting, but I find it very unlikely that he’d be this elaborate if he was just going to end me.__
  2. _Mr. Stark isn’t going to sexually assault me. He doesn’t seem to be interested in me like that. Since he’s seen me naked probably more times than anyone actually. There’s no way I’m exploiting my feelings for him either. I’ll bury that secret to the grave, especially now._
  3. _Mr. Stark isn’t going to let me go. I need to step up my game. Try and be manipulative. Ask more questions. I can do this. Just because I’ve never done this before doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I can. I need to.  Aunt May is counting on me._



 

Peter tucked his arm under his head and began to run his fingers against the couch, _I just have to be careful not to catch him in one of his scary moods._ Which Peter had to admit he never was sure when the man would be. It was like a time bomb of unexpected explosions, but Peter didn’t want to back down. He didn’t want to break. He couldn’t.

“Dinner!” Mr. Stark boasted.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark enter the living room. His socked feet padding against the wood flooring. Peter turned to his side, careful with his foot as he glanced over at the older man. Mr. Stark was placing two plates of turkey club sandwiches down on the coffee table. There was apple slices on one plate and potato chips on the other. Peter’s mouth began to salivate at the food as Mr. Stark adds napkins to the plates and goes to turn on the television.

“Alright, up you go.” Mr. Stark said, nudging on Peter’s shoulder. The teen made a series of groans, his foot sending off stabs of pain. But he lets Mr. Stark help him into a sitting position. The older man takes hold of Peter’s injured foot and place it on top of the coffee table.

“How’s your hand?” Peter asked, taking the plate offered to him with the apple slices. He looked down at the sandwich his stomach growling. “I’m sorry I bit you.”

It came out unexpectedly. Peter had no idea why he was apologizing. Mr. Stark completely deserved that bite. If he was being honest he should’ve done a lot more. Peter took hold of a apple slice, the flesh of the fruit already browning from the exposure to the oxygen in the air.

“It’s okay.” Mr. Stark sounded surprised, as he nestled onto the couch just a few inches apart from Peter. “You were scared. I would’ve done the same thing.”

”Yeah,” Peter shoved the apple slice into his mouth and started for his sandwich, “I am scared.”

Mr. Stark reached over and grabbed the remote not taking in Peter’s confession and started searching for something to watch.

Peter shook his head. Irritation growing inside his stomach, he hungrily took a bite of his sandwich and watched as the man flicked through options.

“You want to watch that _really old_ movie?” Mr. Stark joked, as he grabbed a handful of chips from his plate.

“Which one?” Peter asked, through a mouthful of his sandwich.

“ _Empire Strikes Back_?” The older man asked, taking a swig from his drink.

Peter stared down at his already half eaten meal. His appetite he noticed had yet to diminish since getting the supposed drug that suppressed his powers. He wondered exactly which of his abilities had been dialed down and which were not. Peter knew some of his senses were still sensitive. He might not be able to rely on his spidey sense, but he still could use his heightened main senses to help him out.

“Or we could watch something else.” Mr. Stark said, breaking out of Peter’s thoughts as he took a bite out of his own sandwich.

Peter stared up at the screen filled with movie titles. He was too tired to talk. To even finish the meal, but he didn’t want to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake as long as he could, longer than the older man. Maybe he could get another chance to look at that fence outside. Maybe if he could hack into the security system he’d have another shot at escaping.

_Play it cool, Parker. You can do this._

“I don’t mind. Anything is fine.” Peter said, trying to sound polite as he took another bite of his sandwich.

He heard Mr. Stark sigh out and choose a movie in the comedy genre. Peter still couldn’t pay much attention. He would move his remaining apple slices around his plate and stare off at the screen not invested in the jokes at all, even though Mr. Stark was chuckling beside him.

After a few hard hitting jokes that Peter hadn’t cracked a smile for once. Mr. Stark paused the movie and turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

“You getting tired, Peter?”

_Yes._

“I’m fine.” He lied as he raised his sandwich to his mouth only to stop halfway through. “Why am I here?” Peter asked, setting down his sandwich on his lap.

Mr. Stark sighed out annoyed, resuming the movie, “Peter I’m not going over this again.”

Peter bit his lip, _I have to keep trying. Despite him not giving me answers I have to try._ “But I like to pry, prying is like my superpower. That and being chatty. It’s just part of my charm.”

He tried sounding cheerful maybe even playful, but Peter missed the lightness in his tone.

“Fine,” Mr. Stark snapped back, “can you please be chatty without asking the same questions?” He began to drags his hand down his face. “Over and over again?”

Peter knitted his brows together, his irritation just grew in waves as he gritted out, “Sure. Until I get the answers I’m looking for.”

“Christ, Peter!” Mr. Stark leaned over and set his plate on the coffee table‍. In the process of this, Peter jumped slightly away, shoving his body against the crook of the couch. His heartbeat beat against his chest as he chanced a glance over to Mr. Stark’s irritated glare.

“Do you do this with May?” He asked, waiting for a response from Peter, but Peter remained silent. “Because if you do, I’d be really disappointed in you.”

“You don’t get to say that.” Peter snapped back, irritation he had felt now turned to anger, “You don’t get to act like my-”

Peter stopped, biting down on his lip hard. What was he even going to say? A parent? A father? Peter couldn’t even tell Mr. Stark that what the man doing was wrong. If anything the man thought he was doing all of this to keep Peter safe. Whatever that meant.

Peter squeezed the sandwich in his hands and took a monstrous bite. Willing to do anything other than stare at Mr. Stark.

“How about this. I want to be able to talk to you with my and your own complete attention. I want to make sure you’re not loopy on drugs even though you’re not on anything right now. You’re probably on the tail end of everything you had this weekend. You’re also in pain from your foot but you won’t take anything.”

The man shrugged, leaving Peter’s stomach to tighten from annoyance.

“Until then I’m waiting. So finish your dinner. You’re going to bed afterwards.” Mr. Stark decided, settling back against the couch and resumed watching the film.

Peter slowed his chewing, “What if I don’t want too?”

He knew he needed to stay awake and the thought of Mr. Stark locking him in the bedroom Peter had slept in before became a highly probable outcome.

“Too bad.” Mr. Stark answered, taking a swig from his drink.

Peter could only get so far with a half eaten sandwich and a few slices of apples left. But he made due with another half hour of slow eating and investing himself in the movie.

All while Mr. Stark pulled up a holographic screen and began to lock down the lodge from where he was. A few taps and passwords later and Peter was done with his meal. Peter wished he could’ve gotten a better angle to see how to decode the house, but his exhaustion got the better of him. Peter was soon consumed by his own mind zoning in and out of awareness and yet, fully aware of how comfortable he was with a full stomach and lounging against the couch.

Mr. Stark soon began to take the dirty dishes back into the kitchen as Peter rested his head on his hand. Eyes still locked on the television.

“Time for bed.”

Peter’s stomach twisted slightly as Mr. Stark turned off the television and waited for Peter to follow him. Peter got to his feet numbly letting his left foot carry more of his weight to alleviate the pain in his right.

Every hobble Peter took, his heartbeat raced. His thoughts taking him into a stupor of panic.

_Was Mr. Stark going to lock me in the room?_

_What if he tied me to the bed?_

_Is he going to drug me again?_

As the pair made it to the stairs Mr. Stark grabbed hold of Peter under the arm and hoisted him up the flight of steps. Peter made a surprised squeak as he clung to Mr. Stark.

“What’re you doing? I can do it myself.” Peter said, adjusting his grip on the older man not to fall.

“It’s fine.” Mr. Stark said, reaching down and tucking his arm under Peter’s behind and hoisted him closer.

A deep blush erupted from Peter’s cheeks as he wiggled slightly in Mr. Stark’s grasp. “I’m not a child. This-” Peter’s voice cracked as a high pitched sound emerged from his throat. He cleared his throat his face still burning as he said, “this, isn’t necessary.”

“Calm down.” Mr. Stark said, taking Peter down the hall,  “you can barely walk. This is much quicker. You’ve had a stressful day anyway.”

Peter didn’t disagree with this as the older man began down make his way down the hall where Peter’s room was located on. His breathing pattern began to quicken as they got closer. Sweat began to prick under his armpits as Mr. Stark took a sharp left and hurried Peter into a dimly lit bathroom.

“Brush your teeth.” Mr. Stark said, nonchalantly as he carefully let Peter down off from his hip. Peter’s bare feet touched the cold tiled floor and glanced at himself in the mirror.

He almost doesn’t recognize himself. Pale skin was a given but Peter was shocked he didn’t find ashen skin. No deep set circles under his eyes. Instead Peter looked actually healthy.

Peter knew that victims in movies always looked worse for wear while dealing with their captors but Peter just looked normal. Maybe even more than normal.

“Here.” Mr. Stark said, placing a new toothbrush into Peter’s hand.

“This is one of those fancy ones, right? I think Ned has one of these.” Peter took it gingerly to his mouth turning it on as Mr. Stark prepared his own.

“Yeah, I had to get you the kids version. Since your mouth is so small.”

Peter choked on his spit and glared over at the older man, “I don’t have a small mouth.” He said around a full mouth and bent over to spit out the minty paste.

“Don’t worry. What you lack in size you make up for in your continuous quips.” The man said a smirk gracing his lips.

While Peter finished cleaning his teeth Mr. Stark began to pull things out of the medicine cabinet and his fear began to heighten.

_How could he forget?_

Peter filled a paper cup with water quickly swished it around and threw away the cup. He let out a quick “Good Night.” And hope he could make it to his room without Mr. Stark getting him to take his _medicine._

“Hey, we’re not done.” Mr. Stark said, reaching over to grab Peter’s wrist and held on tightly.

“I’d rather not.” Peter whines out, trying to claw at Mr. Stark hand from around his wrist.

“I’m not going over this again.” Mr. Stark snapped, pulling Peter back towards him.

“I still don’t think I need it.” Peter’s voice began cracking as he tugged to get away, but Mr. Stark pulled the younger boy to him reached under his sweaty arms and hoisted him on top of the counter.

“Which arm?” Mr. Stark asked, pointing at Peter’s arms his eyebrows shot upward.

“None.” Peter crossed his arms in front of his chest tightly staring at his dangling feet.

“Nope. None of that.” The older man tapped on Peter’s forearms, “left or right?”

“Neither.” Peter whispered, his stomach twisting with fear.

Mr. Stark sighed, trying to coax Peter’s arms apart even with Peter tightening his arms closer to his chest. “That stunt you pulled this afternoon-” The older man stopped as he pulled free Peter’s left arm and straightened it, “better not happen again.”

Peter began to shrink as Mr. Stark tied off a rubber strip just above his inner arm. “You said, that you understood why I did it.” Peter sniffed eyes watering slightly as he looked off to the side.

“I do,” Mr. Stark agreed, reaching into the black case and pulling out the vials of liquids that would cause Peter to become less than himself. “You were scared, but you also were a bit dramatic about it. Next time just talk to me.”

Peter grit his teeth and glared down at his knees, “How a I supposed to _calmly talk_ with you about anything when I’m in this predicament? Even when I do you never actually answer me.”

Peter knew his anger was rising again and the urge to punch Mr. Stark was so extreme he had to press his blunt nails into his thigh, hard enough for it to hurt.

“I don’t understand you.” He said under his breath, just as Mr. Stark began to fill up a syringe.

“How about we do this.” Mr. Stark said, coming close to Peter and caging him in between the sink and the older man. “Look at me, Pete.”

Peter took a shaky breath and glanced upward, staring at those dark eyes.

“If you can get along with me for a whole day, no fighting, no trying to escape, no funny business and if you don’t fight me with your injections, then we can discuss some things. I don’t want you to change at all. You’re still you, just, we can do without the dramatics. I know it’s hard. You’re a teenager, but if you can handle being calm for a whole day. I’ll answer some of your questions.”

The teen bit his lip, knowing that it was exactly what the older man wanted Peter to do. Be obedient. Be exactly what Mr. Stark wanted him to be. Would he still get the answers he wanted though? Mr. Stark knew how to play games. The man was always ahead of Peter. Could Peter actually do this? Let the man have his fun?

Peter thought back on how he never could be in drama club. Memorizing lines and being a completely different person despite how you’re actually feeling. Peter never was really good at that, but Spider-Man? Spider-Man could definitely be a beacon that Peter could fall back on. He might not have his red and blues but he still had his pride and Mr.’Stark wasn’t going to take that away.

“I can try.” He said, nodding his head slightly.

“Good, alright just going to get this done then head to bed, okay?” Mr. Stark said, slightly grasping Peter’s arm and tilting it upward.

“Wait!” Peter said hurriedly, wiggling his arm away, “can I just ask why? I mean I don’t understand why it’s necessary.”

The older man sighed, “You’re not setting a good example already, Peter.”

Peter bit his lip, “I know, but-” he blinked back the wetness in his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you need to take away something that makes me special.”

“Peter.” Mr. Stark whispered, setting down the syringe and inspecting Peter’s face, “your spider abilities-” he took hold of the back of Peter’s hand, rubbing his thumb against his palm. “That doesn’t make you special. You’ve been special long before that, and if you don’t see that then maybe it's a good thing we’re keeping your powers dormant. Maybe this will be good for you. Help remind you of your worth.”

Mr. Stark ran a hand through Peter’s curls, and despite Peter wanting to shift his head away he found himself leaning towards the man’s touch, letting him be cradled. He was memorized by the man’s soft look in his eyes. The way he was looking at Peter with so much adoration. Peter never had someone look at him like that before. Maybe Aunt May but this… this was completely different.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Peter.” Mr. Stark whispered, fingering Peter’s hair again, causing several tingles to shoot down Peter’s body.

“You’re only trying to protect me.” Peter whispered back. Even though he didn’t agree with this method. He didn’t want to condone the older man’s methods. But what was he supposed to do? Peter was completely at a lost here.

“That’s right.” Mr. Stark smiled fondly, leaning down to kiss Peter on the forehead.

Peter bit in the inside of his cheek, wanting desperately to hold onto that feeling of bliss with the man’s lips on his skin. He wished it was under different circumstances. But Peter was old enough to know better than to wish on stars. If these past few days had proved anything it’s that Peter was naive and careless. That everything he had encountered in his life, all the mistakes he’s made, he had learned nothing.

The build up was enough to make tears spill over as Peter’s bottom lip began to tremble. Mr. Stark kissed him one more time and said softly, “Deep breath for me, Pete.”

The initial prick caused Peter to tense up as Mr. Stark’s other hand came up and rubbed Peter’s cheek, “Don’t do that. It’ll hurt worse. You’re okay, almost done.”

Peter sniffed and tried his best to relax as Mr. Stark finished the treatment. He tried not looking at it. Peter knew even on a good day needles always made him queasy. Mr. Stark pulled a cotton swab and brought pressure to the injection spot, asking Peter to hold onto it as he got the bandaids.

Peter took his shaky hand to it while he focused on the tiles below. He tried breathing deeply as he concentrated on reciting the periodic table by memory.

“You okay with needles, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked, replacing Peter’s hand with his own to check out the wound.

“N-not really.” Peter admitted, he voice a tad wobbly, “I’ve kind of always got sick afterwards.”

Mr. Stark let out a sigh through his nose, sticking a bandaid over the wound and reached up to tilt Peter’s face towards his.

“Sorry,” The man said, “keep taking deep breaths. It’s a good thing we got food in you. Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”

Peter shook his head, “no, but I’ll need help getting down.”

Mr. Stark nodded, “Okay, let’s have you stay here for a bit. Until you’re feeling a bit better.”

Peter nodded, staring down at his arm and laughed at the bandaid that was there, “They have Spider-Man bandaids?”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Stark said, pulling out the box of the different designs and handing them to Peter, “You’ve become quite popular you know.”

Peter smiled a bit, “That’s really cool.” Even though he couldn’t help but lean to the side as a wave of nausea hit him.

“Christ! Peter don’t look at the wound if it’s going to make you sick.”

“Sorry! It’s just I never been on band aids before this is amazing, Mr. Stark.” Peter exclaimed, he’d jump up and down if he wasn’t afraid of passing out.

The older man chuckled as he started to put the medical kit away, “By the way. You can start calling me by my name you know?”

Peter clutched the box close to him, “What do you mean? Mr. Stark is your name.”

“You can start calling me, Tony.”

“Oh.” Peter said, setting the box down. Fear crawling up his insides. If he were to start calling Mr. Stark by his given name then the man he looked up to his whole life would change.

Tony was his hero.

Mr. Stark had become the villain.

Mr. Stark waited a small smile stretched his lip as he waited for Peter to speak.

Peter licked his lips, “T-Tony-” he tested out the name but it felt foreign in his mouth, strange and unfamiliar.  The sound of it hung in the air for a long second before he quickly blurted out, “Stark!”

Mr. Stark chuckled, pushing Peter’s hair back, “We’ll work on it.”

Peter nodded even though he didn’t actually want to start calling Mr. Stark, Tony. If it would give him a chance to be able to know more about why the man was doing this he would keep trying.

“You think you’re okay to get down now?”

“Y-yeah.” Peter said, just as Mr. Stark came closer so Peter could press his hands on top of the older man’s shoulders for leverage.

“I think it might be better if you stay with me tonight, Peter.”

Panic began to bubble as Peter tried to stand properly just as Mr. Stark grabbed hold of Peter’s upper arm.

“I want to sleep in the room that I was in earlier.” Peter said, pulling slightly away even when Mr. Stark tightened his grasp.

“Well, we don’t know exactly how you’ll take the dosages. What if you get sick in the middle of the night? My room has the bathroom connected to it. It makes more sense. Plus, I can keep an eye on you.”

“No-no” Peter shook his head, again trying to slip free of Mr. Stark’s grasp, “I want to sleep in the other room.”

“I didn’t change the sheets, Peter. Now, it’s really fine.”

Peter shook his head. His heart started beating erratically like a moth’s wings. “I don’t-”

He stopped, a sob crawling up his throat. He couldn’t tell Mr. Stark why he didn’t want to be so close to the man. It was just too overwhelming, he couldn’t do this.

“I want Aunt May.” Peter sobbed as the man pulled him into the bedroom.

“Peter, whatever you’d tell your aunt, you can tell me. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Mr. Stark cradled Peter’s face and wiped away the tears. Peter squeezed his eyes shut his stomach twisting painfully in knots as a new set of sobs clawed their way out.

“I can’t say.” Peter forced out, even though it was a incoherent mess of sounds.

“You were fine about this at the hotel.” Mr. Stark said, pulling Peter along and the urge the teen had to completely go limp was overbearing.

“I wasn’t in the right state of mind!” He snapped, tugging again in the man’s grip. “I don’t want to!”

“Okay, okay.” Mr. Stark hushed, “Breathe for me.”

Peter sucked in a breath and wiped his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. Even though it didn’t work and more tears collected in its place.

“How about I put pillows in between us? Would that make you feel better about this?”

Peter shook his head, stepping backward on his injured foot and let out a hiss.

“Come here and sit down.” Mr. Stark maneuvered Peter down to sit at the edge of the bed. “You’re clearly exhausted. You’ll be fine. You’re safe.”

Peter kept shaking his head as the older man began to tuck Peter in, shushing him every time he’s cries got louder than a certain ocative.

“You’re okay, Peter.”

Mr. Stark pushed gently down on Peter’s shoulders as the teen’s head made contact with the pillow. Peter let out another sob and turned his back away from the older man, curling onto his side. His hands pressed tightly to his eyes. Mr. Stark began to pull the covers over Peter making sure to place pillows around the teen’s body to make due with his promise.

Peter shivered as Mr. Stark placed a hand against his back and started to rub, “You’re safe here. I promise you.”

Peter groaned, but didn’t respond. His stomach still was twisting painfully. He didn’t want to admit it, but the slight message Mr. Stark was giving him, calmed him down slightly. Maybe it was the long day he had but with every circle the man made, the sooner Peter’s cries ceased and lulled deeper into Morpheus embrace.

After a few more rubs that caused Peter’s breathing to even out. The teen felt the man get up from the bed and walk around towards the other side. Peter pulled his hands away from his face and rubbed at them slightly. He sniffed back the wetness in his nose and felt the bed dip on the other side.

In the process of this the light around the room dimmed until it went completely out. Peter’s stomach still felt uneasy but it did feel a lot better at the sense of the pillows in between them.

“Good night, Peter.” Mr. Stark said, reaching over the barricade of pillows and cradled his arm over Peter’s back.

This caused Peter’s breathing to hitch as he cringed slightly towards the pillow wall. He wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. He wouldn’t be able to escape. Peter laid there his heart beating painfully in his chest as he covered his hand over his mouth and tried to muffle his cries.

Somehow in the midst of Peter having a hard time staying awake and not daring to move, he loses consciousness.

 

**…**

_Hands crawled over his body as he tried clawing them away. He felt like he couldn't breathe, the smell of sweet coconut was filling his nostrils, leaving him wanting to gag._

_“We could play like they do in those magazines, Einstein.”_

Peter snapped awake, a scream tearing in his throat, as he thrashed around on the bed. He kicked the pillow wall apart kicking Mr. Stark back into full awakeness as he fell from the bed.

Peter’s elbow smacked against the bedside table but he didn’t stop thrashing. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“Peter? Peter! Are you okay?”

The teen began to wept and he cradled his elbow. He curled up to his side and let out a wail.

“Sweetheart?”

But Peter kept on shedding tears. His arm throbbed painfully and when Mr. Stark came around to inspect him. Peter thrashed out kicking the man in the shin.

“Don’t touch me!” He screamed in a shrill voice, kicking again when the man got close. “Don’t touch me!”

Peter kept repeating the phrase over and over again. His kicks joined by aimless punches to the air, against figures only he can see but they slowed as scents of warm amber surround him.

“Peter? It’s okay breathe for me.”

Peter blinked a few tears away, kicking a few more times until a deep seated fatigue grips his limbs, forcing him to take in a deep breath and welcome his return to his lucid reality.

Mr. Stark came into view as he gently took Peter’s elbow and checked it out for inspection.

“That’s going to leave a nasty bruise, Pete.”

Peter pulled his arm away from Mr. Stark and managed to sit up a bit. He tucked his knees close to his chest and hid his face against them. He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in a long time.

“What happened? Nightmare?” Mr. Stark asked, rubbing Peter’s shoulder slightly.

Peter nodded, as he shrunk away from the man’s touch.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Mr. Stark admitted, pulling Peter into a hug despite the teen’s weak protest, “Anything you want to tell me?”

“N-no,” Peter said, “nothing.”

Peter let his chin rest on the man’s shoulder as he took in the warm scent of the man. Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around his back and pulled Peter closer.

“You promised you would stop touching me by the way. You said you would try and stop. You just,” Peter started to dig his nose closer to the man’s neck to get more of the scent.  It was warm and light, reminding him of flying. It brought to mind sunshine and a spring breeze as he swung across the city skies.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark agreed, running a hand through Peter’s hair, “I should probably work on that. You could also help me understand why you don't like certain touches.”

Peter nuzzled more into the man’s neck, inhaling that warmth and light, sinking into the memories that brought him great joy.  A deep fog crept in between the cracks and made everything seem so far away. He just sank into Mr. Stark’s arms and let the fog carry him away.  Oh, he asked Peter a question, right? He should...he should answer him, so Mr. Stark didn't take the fog away, “um, something happened when I was younger.”

Peter rested his cheek against Mr. Stark’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “And he was touching me, but I said no.”

Peter had to make sure he made that clear. “I told him no, but he didn’t listen. He-” the teen bit his lip and snuggled in closer, “put his hand down my-” he huffed out as a fresh wave of tears began to cloud over his vision.

“Fucking hell.” Mr. Stark interrupted, pulling Peter back a bit to look at the teen’s tear streaked face. “Who did this to you? Did he…? Did he rape you?”

“N-no nothing like that. I haven’t. I’m a virgin he didn’t do that. If I didn’t. Um, if I did nothing he probably would-” Peter stopped as more tears began to fall down his cheeks.

Mr. Stark sighed, wiping away the tears and rubbing Peter’s back, “What’s the fucker’s name?”

Peter shook his head quickly, “No, no, Mr. Stark. He was a kid too. Just a messed up past. I told my uncle and aunt after it happened. I’m- I’m okay.”

“Peter that doesn’t condone what hap-”

“I know.” Peter said, going in and hugging Mr. Stark, relaxing as the sweet fog came and swept him away again. It wasn’t as strong as before but it was enough to calm him down, “I’ve gone to therapy and everything. I’m fine.”

 _Even though I’m not._ Peter thought, as Mr. Stark pulled him back into bed.

“You know you can tell me, Peter. You don’t have to keep it a secret.”

“I know that!” Peter snapped as he grabbed a pillow and clutched it close to his chest, “just leave me alone about it. I told you enough.”

Mr. Stark sighed, “Fine. Just know that I’m here for you, okay?”

Peter nodded, clutching the pillow enough for his knuckles to turn white.

The older man slipped over putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder and waited for Peter to look over at him, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Peter didn’t respond and only laid down when the lights dimmed back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone once again for all their kind words and support! You really keep me going!
> 
> Special thanks to Spade_Storm for helping me out again! You're so amazing thank you for helping me so much with this chapter! <3 <3
> 
> Note:
> 
> From Peter's trauma. I'm pulling from the idea that of PSA issue Spider-Man and the Power Pack. Thank you again Spade_Storm. 
> 
> The Scent: It'll be explored as the story continues but essentially it calms Peter right down and he's going to start to crave it.


	7. SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!!  
> Kidnapping  
> Non-Con Drug Use  
> Lying/Manipulation tactics  
> Mental Illness/Psychological Disorders  
> Mentions of PAST! Sexual molestation   
> Human Experimentation (Blood Samples)

**SEVEN**

_ “Boss, if you’re still thinking about heading to New York. Now would be the time to get up.” _

Tony stretched then rolled to his side. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a exhausted grunt, “Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y. remind me again at half past.”

Tony’s AI doesn’t respond, but as the man propped up to his elbows, the light in the room softly emulated a glow that’s not too bright for the sleeping boy or would cause him to awaken. Tony bent his head towards him and cannot stop the grin developing on his lips at the sight of his boy.

His gorgeous pure boy.

Peter had himself tucked against the pillow wall. Face calm with content slumber, a contrast to his sleeping pattern the night before. The poor thing was in and out of sleep. A mixture of muffled sobs and restless kicking against what Tony could assume was Peter’s past attackers. 

An unfortunate twist developed in Tony’s gut as he pondered if that is how the boy had been dreaming of him. 

Had Tony become apart of that horrid group where Peter fought tooth and nail at? Where once the kid would look at Tony which such adoration that it sometimes made Tony feel like he was worth something? That he wasn’t just a monumental fuck up? Like he had felt in the past year or so.

Ross and the accords, fucking up his relationship with Pepper or Rogers and the Rogues. Although, that last one was actually something Tony didn’t feel bad at all about. Rage was more the correct term so he tended not to dwell on the matter too often, otherwise he’d do something he might regret.

Tony didn’t want to admit it, but there were times he found himself acting just as his father did. He would snap at any simple thing Peter would say that crawled under his skin. Tony would physically force the kid into things when his blood would boil. He hated that he was allowing himself to do that. That honest tears rolling down Peter’s face at times when Tony couldn’t stop his rage, did nothing but irritate the man. Peter must absolutely hate him.

Tony didn’t blame Peter. All the fucked up shit he was doing to him, Tony was surprised the kid didn’t do worse. But the kid had to know what Tony was doing was right. If Peter had an ounce of knowledge about _why_ Tony choose this path then Peter would completely understand. Tony knew this. Peter is a smart kid, a prodigy, the absolute best of his generation but , still, Tony hesitated to tell Peter everything. If the kid honestly knew, he would not only be scared out of his wits, he'd be petrified. Tony couldn’t do that to the kid. Not yet at least. Especially now with the recent developments of Peter’s past coming into the light last night.

Tony had to be careful with Peter. Not that he hadn’t tried to be, even though he had been doing a horrible job recently. Tony knew he was losing his patience with the kid. He had never dealt with rebellious teenagers well in the past. Not that Peter ever was like those spoiled privileged kids he didn’t have the pleasure of meeting at galas and benefits.

Peter didn’t usually talk back and he always had manners, but if this past weekend proved anything, it was that with every twist and turn, Peter had wiggled himself under Tony’s skin. Both in good ways and not so great. When Peter didn’t like something his questioned Tony’s motives. Fought with him with every ounce the kid had, even with fighting consciousness with the amount of drugs Tony fed him. Tony, again, didn’t blame Peter, but it was hard to not just yell out the truth. If Peter just knew what Tony knew, if Peter just stopped and took in his surroundings and noticed that Tony wasn’t honestly trying to hurt him. He just wanted to protect him, then maybe the kid would back off and let Tony breath.

But, Tony reached down almost touching Peter’s forehead before stopping when he remembered Peter’s pleas last night to not touch him without his consent. Tony knew he would have to step up his game and be more understanding of Peter’s position. Even if Tony’s patience was wearing thin.

Peter moved his head slightly, snuggling his face close into the pillow that made the tightness in Tony’s abdomen lessen. Peter was safe here, safe and sound. As long as the kid stayed and didn’t try to escape then Tony knew the kid would be okay.

Peter had to be okay.

“Peter? Peter can you get up for me for a second?”

Tony watched as the younger boy turned his head towards the pillows and hugged tighter.

_ He’s just a kid, Tony.  _ His mind pleaded with him as he tried again to arouse Peter from his slumber.

“Peter, time to get up.” He said a bit louder.

Peter grumbled against the sheets and shook his head, “Five more minutes, Aunt May.”

Tony’s heart sank as he stared down at the boy.  _ The kid thinks this is all a dream. Probably a nightmare. _

“Afraid we can’t do that, Pete.” Tony tried again, wanting nothing but to pull the kid upward.

“No-” Peter mumbled out, ignoring Tony’s requests and snuggled closer into the blankets and trying his best to fall back asleep.

Tony knew he couldn’t have that. Peter had to be awake while he explained how today was going to go. The kid had to understand what Tony and Peter himself were going to do.

Tony checked his watch and let out a sigh then wrapped at hand around Peter’s bicep.

“No! I’m tired!” Peter wailed grasping the blankets and pillows below him, pulling against Tony’s stronger pull.

“I know you are.” Tony said, sympathetically pulling the mumbling teen up and out of the bed to follow him into the bathroom. “You’ll be back in bed soon. I promise.”

“Why can’t I just stay?” Peter whined out, rubbing his eyes harshly as Tony pulled him into the dimly lit bathroom.

“Five minutes tops.” Tony promised, as he maneuvered the boy towards the sink and hoisted a barely consciousness Peter onto the countertop.

He watched as Peter leaned to the side slightly, his head lounging deeply to the side. Tony’s stomach dropping at the fact he was putting Peter in more distress. Tony took a deep breath in then out, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the medicine for Peter.

_ Just adding on more things that I’m destroying Peter with. _ Tony thought, while reaching in and taking hold of a custom wrist watch he made for the boy. It was a piece of technology that Tony made for Peter and himself to wear to make sure they’d be able to keep in contact. With both AI’s being able to contact himself and Peter.

Of course Tony’s wrist watch had more capabilities than Peter’s. Which included one specific setting where, if Tony decided to take Peter outside the complex , , Peter would not be able to be any more than ten feet away from the older man without a sedative knocking the boy unconscious. It was extreme but necessary if Peter tried to run before Tony would decide if he was ready or not.

Today though, the feature was not going to be activated. Today, it was only going to make sure Peter could only get in contact with only Tony and the AI’s. Tony would be able to see his vitals and well-being while he was away.

“I was going to wait until I got your uncle’s watch back.” Tony said, while unclasping the watch and slipping it onto Peter’s wrist.

The boy jumped slightly at the contact and made a move to tug the watch off, before Tony grasped tightly around his free wrist and moved it to the side.

“Don’t even think about it. The watch will send a shock to who ever tries to tug it off without the proper codes, and don’t even think that I won’t get notified by it either.”

Tony let go of Peter’s wrist as he grabbed his own and wrapped it around his wrist then began tapping in the passcode activating both of their watches to link together. 

Peter rubbed his eyes again, staring down at the watch where the screen turned a bright blue. While Peter watched as the screen changed and updated to the time zone they were in and the weather outside. Tony began to get Peter’s dosage ready for the day. 

The kid only needed it once a day to subside his abilities. Tony knew he shouldn’t be giving the kid dosages too closely together, but his hands were tied. Tony didn’t want to risk anything. He knew his business in New York wouldn’t take all day, but he still didn’t want to risk the possibility of Peter regaining his strength when he returned.

“So this is like you claiming ownership then?” Peter grumbled, tapping on the screen. Tony could tell his irritation grew when the watch only switched back to the time and weather.

“No,” Tony said flatly,  _ where was the kid getting these ideas?  _ “It’s just to keep you safe when I’m not here.”

“Where you going?” Peter asked, quickly as his head popped upward as Tony filed a needle up with the correct dosage. “I-I thought I only needed one a day? H-how come I’m getting two? That’s not what you said last night.”

_ Again with the questions. _ Tony sat down the needle far away from Peter and raked his hand through his hair, “I’m going to New York for a bit, you’re staying here and relaxing for the day. There’s enough security here to keep you safe from anything out there and in here.  You’re only getting one injection today. I’m just doing it now before I leave. It’s going to keep you relaxed until I get back.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he shifted backward against the sink, “We’re not in New York? Where the heck are we?” 

Tony didn’t respond but kept busy while he got the needle ready to do the injection. He grabbed for another rubber strip and tied off Peter’s other inner arm as the kid let out soft sob.

“You’re drugging me again!? Why can’t I go with you? I don’t want to be left here by myself. Mr. Stark please?”

“Yes,” Tony admitted, “You’re getting another dose and it’ll help you make up for the sleep you lost last night. It’s a low dose, Peter so don’t worry and no you’re not going with me. I’m doing too much today to worry about a sixteen year old who's going to be asleep for most of the day anyway.”

Tony gently grabbed hold of Peter’s arm and pulled it taunt even with Peter’s insist pulling his arm back to his chest.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Karen will keep you company when you wake up,” Tony said, as he managed to keep Peter’s arm straight and reached over to grab hold of the syringe.

“Let me go with you.” Peter whined, and tilted his head to the side as Tony approached him with the needle, his face scrunched up in pain.

“How would that work?” Tony asked, focusing on the task to properly make the injection go smoothly, “You’d be asleep in the plane all day. That’s just asinine, Peter.”

Peter made a small jerk that Tony wasn’t sure was from him swearing or the the needle going in, but he made quick work to make sure Peter wouldn’t pass out on him.

Once Tony carefully cleaned up after the injection he watched as Peter slightly sways on the counter his eyes glassy as he stared at the tiled floor and Tony came up close and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“I honestly want to punch you.” Peter grumbled against Tony’s chest.

A bubble of laughter erupted from Tony’s stomach as he hugged the kid tighter. Peter’s confession was something Tony dealt with on countless days by the voice inside his head, but hearing it from Peter just made it all the more real and hilarious to him.

After a few minutes Tony began to tug a barely conscious Peter back into bed. Peter’s speech became a mumble of incoherent words and phrases that Tony could barely understand.

Once Peter was comfortable back in bed, Tony began to rub circles into his back, reminding him again that he’d be back as soon as he could.

“I’ll be back tonight for dinner, Peter. You can call me whenever you need to, okay.”

Tony heard a half hearted _okay,_ and a series of other sounds as the boy eyes slipped close and he’s breathing evened out. Tony rubbed one more circle into Peter’s back and began to speak with both of the AI’s.

After a few commands, the house around him began to lock down. He set up protocols to keep the sleeping form of Peter safe today and reminded Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y to contact him if anything should arise in his absence.

Tony looked upon Peter, calm in his sleeping form once again, and took the chance to pull back his hair as he whispered, “What you told me last night. I still want answers from you.”

He knew Peter wouldn’t answer him, but Tony swore he almost saw Peter shudder at Tony’s words.

**. . .**

Out on the road, Tony’s stomach flipped and flopped from an oncoming panic. He let out deep breaths while focused on the road in front of him. Tony reached down and turned the his psychedelic tracks at full volume as his mind wandered back to the full on tragic mess he’ll be dealing with once he landed in New York.

Not only did he have to get in contact with Happy in the next hour or so, but he’ll have to talk to May Parker as well. Put on the facade of a completely unaware philanthropist about her nephew’s disappearance. Tony knew he should be there for her while she filed a missing person’s report.

_ It was going to be a long day _ . Tony thought irritably as he continued down the road, running his hand down his face. He grimaced when he felt the stinging pain of his hand and he glanced quickly down at his bandaged hand. Tony knew he’d have to visit Helen Cho and get his mess of a hand fixed before he stepped foot into NYPD. 

_ Just add it to the list. _

He drove on for another half hour or so, turning onto the private road that lead to his plane, having arrived just for him. By the time Tony parked and slung his bag over his shoulder Happy Hogan’s name showed up on his caller ID.

“Tell me something good, Happy.” Tony said, while he ascended toward the plane, nodding once at the staff and crew that would be flying him back to New York.

“I’m not sure if it’s  _ something good,  _ but May Parker’s been in contact with me.”

“I thought we were expecting that.” Tony responded, slipping his bag off his shoulder and choosing a seat near the back of the plane. Tony knew Peter gave his aunt Happy’s number since the beginning, it was something May wanted when she signed the papers to let Peter be in the internship. Something Tony was glad May did. She kept a good eye on Peter. Well, until Tony came into view.

“I know. It’s just, she never used it until now. I guess I was surprised.” Happy admitted, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

_ Well, I don’t think the kid had ever disappeared on her before.  _ Tony thought sarcastically. 

“We’ll be leaving soon, sir.” A pretty dark haired flight attendant told Tony as he nodded slightly, “hot towel?”

He waved her off and pressed his phone closer to his ear. “And what did she say?”

“Well, she was wondering if Peter had come around this weekend. I said what you told me to tell her about Peter not coming around since he was suspended from the internship. She seemed slightly confused by that. She was lead to believe that Peter lost the internship but I told her she’d have to talk to you about it, because I couldn’t remember the cover story you set in order to cover the ferry incident.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath, “okay, what else?”

“She called Peter’s school and they said they only had footage of Peter leaving the library and nothing else. Thanks boss, for that.”

Tony had made sure to hack into the school’s security system and erased any footage of Happy entering the school and anything after with Peter and Happy leaving the school grounds. No one saw Happy enter the building nor did they see Peter leave except for leaving the library. That’s how Tony wanted it. How it had to be.

“Anyway,” Happy continued when Tony didn’t respond back, “the school’s being nonchalant about the affair. Basically telling May that since Peter was starting to ditch school even on school trips, he might have had thoughts of running away.”

“I bet she wasn’t too happy to hear that.” Tony confessed as his stomach lurched as the plane began to take off.

“Not one bit. She’s basically running on exhaustion, boss. I told her you’re on official business but you’d call when you could. That you’d want to help.”

“That I do.” 

“Right, well she’s waiting on that call, Tony.”

“I’ll call her right after I get done talking to you.”

Happy grunted and it sounded like he was maneuvering around the other end, “Everything has been destroyed, like you asked. I kept the watch that you wanted. It’s a piece of crap but I got it.”

Tony smiled as a flight attendant placed a bottle of water in front of him and he told her his thanks.

“Good, Happy. Thank you for all of this. I’ll see you later today?”

He heard Happy grunt out an agreement and a farewell as Tony told him goodbye and flicked through his messages to call May Parker.

His thumb hovered over the number as a slight panic blossomed deep in his stomach.

_ You can do this. _

He let out a deep breath and clicked on the number and held the phone close to his ear.

There’s only one ring and the phone answered to a frantic woman on the other end.

“Peter? Peter! Is that you?”

Tony’s stomach flipped as he cleared his throat and answered back, “Uh, actually no. It’s Tony Stark.”

“Oh!” May sounded surprised for a second then, “Mr. Stark. Mr. Hogan told me that you were out of town. Something about official business with the Avengers?”

“Yes, there’s a potential candidate here that I was visiting anyway-” Tony said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Happy coming up with Avenger business rather than work on his actual company. It didn’t matter Pepper was now CEO. Tony still did work here and there for the company. “I’m actually heading back to New York today. Happy told me about Peter-”

He stopped his heart beating quickly against his chest, “What can I do to help?”

May let out a broken sob that left Tony completely shocked.

“Mr. Stark. I’ve called everyone that Peter and I know. No one has seen him. His friends on the decathlon team said he went to practice last Friday but when he went to the bathroom he never came back. I guess one of his classmates went to go find him but assumed he went home-“

She stopped and let out a series of muffled sobs and Tony rubbed at his temples, “He hasn’t responded to any ones texts or calls. I’ve been out looking for him all weekend. I talked to the man that owns the sandwich shop around the corner. He likes getting sandwiches there, but nothing. No one knows where he is. I went to the school Monday and they practically laughed in my face. They think Peter’s just didn’t want to come home. Like he decided to run away. That’s not Peter. Peter wouldn’t do that. No matter what he’d never run away.”

May let out a few more sobs and Tony tried his best to calm her down.

“May, we’ll find Peter. It’s time we can report Peter missing, yeah? Why don’t we meet up downtown and we can file one together. I’ll make sure things get done quickly, okay?”

“Oh!” May collected herself and let out a sigh of relief, “you’re not too busy to do that? I’d really appreciate your help, Mr. Stark that would be such a big help.”

“No worries,” Tony turned on his famous charm, “it would be my pleasure to help out the Parker family.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark!” May said, sounding like she was close to crying again.

“Tony.” He corrected letting himself smile.

“Tony.” May repeated.

“My plane won’t land until mid morning. Don’t go to the police until I meet up with you.”

“Okay.” May agreed, “thank you again, Tony.”

He finished the call with a quick goodbye and tapped the phone against his bottom lip. His panic subsiding at every exhale. He stared down at his phone and then pressed in the coding to bring into view Peter fast asleep right where Tony had left him.

There’s a small drone circling close to Peter’s bottom half and right on time Tony’s watch dinged with a update of Peter’s wellbeing. Everything seemed completely fine. Tony let out a deep breath knowing it helped to remain calm and seeing his boy sleeping peacefully added to keeping him from completely exploding.

**. . .**

“It isn’t as bad as what you’re making it out to be.”

Helen Cho observed Tony once again. He knew full well that she was resisting the urge to roll her amber eyes.

“The kid was scared.” He said, watching as the lasers repair his torn skin of his palm. It almost reminded Tony of a dog bite he didn’t even think Peter bit into him that hard.

“I’m just surprised you’re here and not with him. I thought I explained to you about how you need to stay with him after the first initial dosages.”

Tony nodded, “I know you did. The kid hasn’t had any side effects though. I’ve got a drone on the kid that sends me his vitals every half hour. Plus that watch he’s wearing isn’t just for show. It’s reading his heartbeat and blood pressure. Plus, I can’t be a suspect. If anything I have to help with the search.”

“Must be tough,” Helen admitted, as she brought out the holographic grid of Tony’s progress, “dealing with all of this. Especially with a teenager.”

“The dog days aren’t going to be over anytime soon.” Tony admitted, resting his uninjured hand against his chin.

Tony could feel Helen’s eyes observing him, as she brought up a new file right under Tony’s gaze.

“This is-” Tony trailed off looking over the thesis Helen Cho compiled, “This is the kid’s chart?”

Helen nodded, and pressed into the document’s test results, enlarging the image, “Tony, I think we actually got a medical break through.”

“I can’t believe the kid has that strong of a healing factor. It’s like his white blood cells are high on steroids or something.”

“Exactly,” Helen gushed, “If my calculations are correct. I could possibly formulate not only a cure for broken bones and terrible wounds. But illnesses like Alzheimer’s disease.”

“Shit.” Tony whispered, his eyes scanning her work, “Something on this scale you could synthesize a vaccine. You know how many people you could help with this?”

“I know!” She gushed, “I know you’ve given me plenty to work with, and don’t get me wrong. I’m forever grateful to be working on this young man’s blood-”

“But?” Tony interrupted, knowing full well where this was heading.

“Do you think he’d mind, would you mind, if I could get more samples? Maybe not just blood but a skin sample as well?”

“I’m not sure, Cho.” Tony said, rubbing his face with his free hand then looked at her work again.

Tony contemplated this. He knew as of right now Peter wouldn’t give anything up willingly. The kid fought Tony on too many occasions and frankly Tony was sure that Peter would probably pass out on him while he collected the samples. Tony bit into his thumb nail as he looked down at the test results in awe. It was something for the greater good, and something he knew Peter would agree too if he knew all the facts.

He watched her smile fondly, even though he could see a small hint of disappointment there, “Well, I’m grateful for everything you’ve allowed me to work on thus far. But, if I may?”

Tony nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Maybe you can talk to him see if he would mind? Show him my work? Let him know about how it could be a wonderful cause in the end? The people he would be saving? I’m just asking for more because I want to make sure I can separate the radioactive spider venom from the bloodstream. So no one would get infected from the boy’s blood in the vaccine.”

She tapped on the holographic computer and sends the file to Tony’s email titled  _ Gold Blood. _

“ _ Gold Blood _ , huh?” Tony asked, smiling up at her.

She shrugged her shoulders and returned the smile, “I wasn’t going to call it,  _ Spider Blood. _ ”

After completely healing his hand, Tony made his way out of the medical bay. He turned the corner and was relieved to find Happy Hogan waiting for him.

Tony slipped him a smile as he took in Happy’s state. He was right, Happy still looked worse for wear. More so in person than anything else.

Happy looked exhausted with the two deep indents the shade of purple under his eyes and the worried lines against his forehead. Tony knew he had to at least get Happy something to lessen the tension. Maybe a couple of paid weeks off? Maybe he should throw in a paid vacation of Happy’s choosing.

“Just the man I wanted to see.” Tony exclaimed, patting Happy’s shoulder and tugging him along the corridor. “I wanted to ask you about the watch.”

“Right,” Happy agreed, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the worn out watch. “After what you told me. I’m glad I ended up not throwing this out.”

“Me too,” Tony agreed, glancing over it once seeing where he could get it repaired and pocketing it soon after.

“How’s the kid doing? I know you said he was doing okay but-”

“He’s doing okay for how much I’ve told him. Which isn’t much.” Tony admitted truthfully. “He’ll come around. He wasn’t too pleased this morning though. I bet he won’t be happy when I get back.”

“Does he even know where you guys are staying?” Happy asked as he turned the corner and headed towards the elevator.

“He knows we’re not in New York. I think just the fact that we aren’t near anything remotely a city or a skyscraper is messing him up. When I can trust him not to run off like a maniac I’ll take him on the trails.” Tony said, checking his phone wondering if he should take a look at what Peter was doing. Even though he knew full well that the kid was still fast asleep.

“You think you can do something for me while I’m out?” Tony asked, pocketing his phone again. 

“Sure boss, whatever you need.” Happy’s tone sounded calm but Tony could hear a fraction of fear there.

“There’s some packages being sent here today. I was wondering if you could send them to my plane. I may or may not have gone overboard in getting Peter more stuff.”

Happy let out a heavy sigh.

“What? The kid deserves it.”

“No, Boss. He deserves the truth.”

Tony’s hands begin to shake slightly and he willed himself to calm down. He knew Happy was just trying to help and Tony appreciated everything the man was willing to do.

“I know, Hap.” He agreed, “but I can’t tell him yet. It’ll crush the kid.”

Happy’s about to disagree but Tony interrupts him quickly by saying, “Look I have to get going. Can you make sure you get those packages to my plane by the end of the day?”

Happy nodded, still looking like he wanted to talk to Tony about all of this, but Tony didn’t want to hear it. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet and Happy watched him curiously.

“Where are you headed in such a rush?” Happy asked as Tony made his way down the hall.

Tony smiled slightly and craned his neck back towards Happy slipping his trembling hands into his pockets, “I’m meeting with Peter’s aunt at the police station.” He explained, hoping his tone sounded light and calm, “We have to do whatever we can to find that precious boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone once again for all their kind words and support! You really keep me going!
> 
> Special thanks to Spade_Storm for helping me out again! You're so amazing thank you for helping me so much with this chapter! <3 <3
> 
> What did you think of Tony's POV? Next chapter will focus on him as well! Stay tuned! :)


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with moving and all of its glory this chapter went out much later than I expected, but it's out and I missed you all! Thank you for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy the story! <3 I'll try and keep the updates weekly!

**EIGHT**

A gust of wind whipped past as Tony clutched the collar of his jacket closed. Winter was coming sooner than he expected and he didn’t want to be snowed in with a hormonal teenager. Tony knew he could give it a month or so for Peter to adapt to his new lifestyle then he’d pack up his boy and travel somewhere warmer. Somewhere where coldness doesn’t further corrupt his mind.

He couldn’t let focus on that right now though. Tony took a deep breath and shifted his focus to the young woman in front of him, her raggedy coat billowed around her as she chatted away on the phone. Her chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail and her glasses slipped down her nose. She pushed them up and wiped under an eye. She turned and caught a glance of Tony, smiled slightly telling the other person on the phone goodbye.

_ You can do this, Tony. _

The poor woman looked exhausted and completely on the verge of a breakdown.

“Mr. Stark.” May Parker pocketed her phone and threw out her hand for him to shake.

Tony took her hand. The leather in his glove his caught on her ragged gloves. He gave her a warm smile and turned to direct her into the station. He pulled the glass door open for her as she slipped in quickly and told him her thanks.

“I’m actually surprised you came and not one of your assistants.” She tugged her gloves off just as Tony stepped in beside her. She let out a exasperated groan and dropped her shoulders, “I shouldn’t say that, I’m sorry. Everything’s just been-”

_ Aunt May needs me, sometimes she can get too freaked out. I have to be there for her. _

Tony watched as May chewed at her bottom lip and cast her eyes downward like Peter always does before he cries. He had to try, at least for Peter’s sake.

“May,” he tried, placing his hands on top of her shoulders and waited until she looked at him.

When she finally glanced up at him. Tony tried his best to speak as calmly and sternly as he could. He had to believe the next words that would come out of his mouth. Play the part.

“We will find, Peter. We’ll find him safe and sound. That I promise you.”

The woman was slightly shorter than him, and he had to bend his neck slightly to stare at her tearful eyes. But he knew in that moment as she stared up at him, he had won her over.

It was all too easy.

. . .

“What exactly was your nephew wearing when he left for school that morning?”

Tony clutched his coffee as he stared at the expansive missing children billboard. His stomach curling at the sick fucks who had the audacity to take so many kids but he doesn’t let anything show on his face.  He’s Tony  _ Fucking _ Stark, right now.  He is power personified and heaven help anyone who thought they can stop him from getting what he wants.

Right now, Tony  _ Fucking _ Stark is here to support the aunt of his missing intern.  His personal intern who is still a minor.  _ Fuck _ ! He didn’t think they’d have to go the Special Victims Unit to file a missing persons report.  

“Uh, Peter was wearing regular blue jeans, his jacket, it’s uh, brown. His favorite science pun shirt. I might have a reference to that somewhere.”

Tony could hear the rustling of May going through her bag. One act of physical contact with May and Tony planted a listening spider bot on her coat.  It was an invention that Peter had off hand mentioned a few weeks ago and he can say it’s worked out beautifully. He had to compensate for range and his normal human hearing but it’s a worthwhile investment.

“He also has a watch on. It was my husband’s. He gave it to Peter before he passed. Peter hardly ever takes it off.” 

Tony’s stomach flipped as the weight in his front pocket seemed to weigh more all the sudden. Ben Parker’s watch wasn’t on Peter anymore, but Tony would change that soon. That was one mistake he could fix. Anything for his boy.

In his peripheral Tony could see the other officers in the unit glancing over at him.  More than a few twitch and shuffle at the sight of Tony Stark staring at the missing children’s posters.  He’d think they might suspect him if they didn’t look so terrified he might take a repulser to the wall. Which is good.  He doesn’t need the cops thinking he’s  _ that _ kind of a monster.

Because he isn’t. These fuckers have no idea what the kid was in real danger of, but Tony? No Tony was anything but a monster to the kid. He wouldn’t go as far as saying he was a savior, but he would do his best to keep Peter safe.

Because no one else was in danger here, just his boy. He’s precious, kind boy.

As May continued to answer their questions, Tony brought up the profiles of all the detectives in this unit on his HUD shades, especially the ones that look like they’re going to be on this case.

All the while he stared at the many smiling faces of children separated from their families. A couple of teenagers stood out from the rest on the board, only because they look about the same age as Peter.

Blonde waves circle around a pale face of a blue eyed girl. She smiled invitingly at Tony as he reads her name,  _ Tandy Bowen. Last seen in Manhattan, NY outside of Juilliard School of Dance. _

Tony found this unusual especially since Juilliard was a well populated area. He had Friday scan for the missing girl and looked onward at the poster of the boy beside her. 

_ Tyrone Johnson. Last seen in Manhattan, NY outside of Bethany’s Corner store.  _

Tony again noted how odd these kidnappings took place. Especially since it happened the same time and day. There’s some other teenagers around New York missing within similarly populated areas, where kidnappings have taken place and he made sure FRIDAY files them in his database for further research that he’ll look into later. Without prying eyes.

But, how many parents didn’t give a shit? How the hell were there that many children missing? What was Tony missing? It may be under the Avengers pay grade but given the number of children and the fact that  _ none _ of them have been found, is enough to make Tony’s blood boil.

The grip on his coffee tightened and he tried to keep his temper in check.  He tried to stay calm. He can’t afford to lose it here. Still, Tony eyes the posters and the information is transferred by FRIDAY.  Tony thought he has his anger under control, he’s as calm as he can be considering the view, until his gaze fell to the side and he saw a small boy. Sweet kind face, brunette with honey doe eyes. Almost but not quite like his boy. If Peter was that age again Tony was sure Peter’s would almost shine golden.

“There’s been a lot of runaways around the same age as Mr. Parker’s.” A voice was heard beside Tony.

Only Tony couldn’t fathom this idea. He couldn’t stop the rage and the weak cup crumbled in his hand. Warm liquid flows against his hand, pouring over his knuckles and dripped onto the floor. He kept his eyes blazed to the picture of Henry Davis, his fist still clenched, ignoring the pain he felt in his wrist.

“Oh, Mr. Stark. Here,” Tony turned, blinking as a man with ginger hair and matching facial hair bounded up to him with a towel in hand.  He carefully pried the remains of Tony’s cup from his fist and places the towel over Tony’s clenched fist. If Tony were in a better mood, in a better state of mind, he’d make a crack at the cop deftly working around that particular neurosis of his.

“I’m Detective Bennett.” He said, reaching his hand out to shake Tony’s. Tony took it and didn’t bother to let up on the vice hand grip noting the slight wince the officer does a bad job trying to cover up.

“Good to meet you, sir.” Tony grumbled, and cleared his throat as he let go of the man’s hand.

“It’s awesome-I mean, very nice to meet you.” the officer confessed and cleared his throat, “My partner is speaking with Mrs. Parker. Why don’t we have a seat over here in the conference room and we can get your statement?”

“Of course.” He can’t bring himself to give a press smile.  He used the towel to clean the coffee before it dried, avoiding the outcome of a sticky mess. Tony tried to push the kids out of mind but that’s impossible now. He’ll have to look into them, much later. 

_ Right now, play the part. _

“And it has nothing to do with me looking seconds away from tearing down your little wall here?”

“More like we don’t want you hunting down any suspects.” Detective Bonnett opened the door and gestured for Tony to go first. “Doing our job would be a hundred times harder if the perps went into hiding because they’re scared Iron Man might swoop down and fly off with them, never to be seen again.”

Tony shrugged, “Fair enough.” 

_ I’d do a lot more than make them disappear. _

They’re all seared into his memory now. His mind is brought back to that little kid from the Expo, who stood all alone as an android aimed to kill him.  Where were his parents? Did he make it out okay? Did Tony save him from death only to leave him to a fate worse than that?

“We’re going to start off with the basics, okay?”

Tony took a seat at the head of the room watching the younger man look uncomfortable then take a seat next to him and opened up a file. 

“Sure. The sooner you get on with this, the sooner you can head to the school. I want you and your partner over there, today.”

“Of course! We’ll need clearance with the head of the division but we’re going to try.”  

Tony gestured for the cop to hurry up with a flick of his good hand, “Fine. Let’s get this over with then. Sooner we’re done the sooner  _ I  _ can talk to your boss.”

The officer looked stricken and cleared his throat, “What is your relationship with the the Parkers?”

“Peter is my personal intern and his aunt is, well, his aunt, family.  Since he works with me, we chat every now and then.” Tony admitted, with a shrug.

“I didn’t know Stark Industries hired teenagers.”

“They don’t.  _ I _ hired him.  Kid’s a genius, pull up his school records.  They’re incredible. I wasn’t going to let someone like  _ Oscorp _ snatch him up.”  

Tony made his disgust very prominent. He’s a businessman, a politician, he’s an eccentric genius.  This willed his heartbeat beat to slow down. He needed to calm down. The cop was doing his job, he’s one of those who has dedicated his life to finding missing kids and putting pedophiles,  _ real _ monsters, in prison.  He wasn’t out to get Tony, he wasn’t here to hate the billionaire, to tell him how much of a liability he was or tell him to kick his ego to the side.

“Can you tell me how you met?”

On and on, it goes. Tony has never been a patient man and people know this.  But this questioning sounded more like they were going round and round. It was annoying as hell.  If he wanted to be on a Mary go-round he would’ve gone to Coney Island. 

If anyone suspected him, they’d have tried to get him to confess by now, right?  All they’ve done so far was irritate the hell out of him. It was enough to make him snap out, “Is that it? Are we done? I feel like we’re done.”

“We just-”

“No,” Tony took off his shades, so the cop can see just how pissed he really was and Tony didn’t even have to fake it. The school day had already started and was nearing midday, now.  He wanted the cops over at Midtown now. May’s interview ended ten minutes ago only to be followed by a phone call from her boss, some asshole Tony will have to look into later, telling her she has to go in or she’ll be put on probation. 

“I’ve answered your questions and right now, I want you to question the ones who let my intern, my  _ personal _ intern, get snatched off the goddamn streets."

“Mr. Star-”

“The same ones who were responsible for his safety and didn’t so much as lift a finger when he walked off with who knows who to who knows where.  The same people who accused my intern, who has no history of it, of being a delinquent.”

“Sir-”

“This is the same kid who could make a computer out of dumpster scraps. I have plans to make him head of R&D when he graduates. You really think this is something I would do? That I even have the time to do this? Do you know who I am?”

“We-”

“-are going to go down to his school and interrogate every person who saw Peter Parker last and you’re going to hunt down the one who took him.”

Tony leaned forward, just a bit, just enough to be threatening without towering over the man.

“You’re going to do everything in your power and outside of it to find Peter Parker and you’re going to start with his school. I’d really like to know what the fuck they were thinking letting a minor leave without permission, don’t you?”

When Tony stepped out of the room, leaving a baffled Detective Bennett behind him. He went to fetch his coat and to find May. He already knew what she’s going to say and has his response ready.  She’s already on his side. It’s only a matter of keeping her where he wanted her.

“Tony, are you really going with them to the school right now?”

Tony pulled his coat on, “Yup. Right now.  Need a ride there?” 

Her expression fell, her eyes gaining a glassy sheen. “I can’t. I have to go into work.”

He frowned at her, mostly in disbelief.

“Do they know what you’re doing? Do they know that Peter is missing?”

“They think he’s run away like everyone else.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

He can’t help himself.  This is just ridiculous.  Peter is good. So, so good.  The only good left in the world and they just want to write him off?  As if he were just another teenager? It makes the dark, broken pieces rear, makes the jagged edges of his psyche hiss and spit poison.  It whispered the evil they must have done, the kind of secrets they must be hiding to care so little for his Peter. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, he pushed those thoughts to the side.  They’re not  _ gone _ but they’re quiet, for now.

“I should be there, but my job. I can’t lose my job-”

Tony shook his head, “I’m sorry, no. I said, I would help in anyway I can. I’ll help you out with this, May.”

“Call me when they’re done? I can take an early break and you can tell me if they have anything?”

Tony nodded, “I can do that. I’ll meet you at work, some place without any eyes and ears? Or I can meet you at your apartment if you can swing by real quick.  I’ll call you later and you can tell me then.”

“Okay. Yeah.” She’s already walking in step with him to the exit, right behind the officers making their way to their vehicles to get to Midtown. 

“Thank you, Tony. This really means a lot to me.” May expressed.

It made Tony smile.

**. . .**

Tony must be making it a habit to stand in front of display cabinets today. Here at Midtown High of Science and Technology, Tony scanned the many awards, looking for Peter’s achievements.

The only thing so far he has found is a picture of him with his decathlon team and a Math award from his Freshman year. 

_ The kid wore glasses. _ He’d have to talk to Peter about that later. He looked so young there.

“Principal Morita?” He gestured for the small man to come to his side. The man had been in distress since they showed up, and it only gave Tony this sweet thrill of satisfaction.

“Where’s Peter?” He asked, motioning at the cabinet filled with achievements of spoiled brats.

“I’m sorry?” Principal Morita questioned, looking at the display cabinet then back at Tony, “I don’t quite unders-“

“His award for being the youngest intern at my company.”

“I-well,” The principal’s face took on a pinched expression. Just then the school bell rings, obnoxiously loud. 

_ Fuck! Did that hurt Peter’s enhanced senses _ ?  He’ll need to make something for him when all of this blows over. But, first…

“Are you telling me that no one knew Peter was working for me?  Where the hell did you think he was going at all hours of the day? To go smoke pot at the corner store?”

“No! Of course not!” The other man is pale and his eyes dart around to the slowly gathering crowd of nosy teenage students. Some have already stopped and took a glance at Tony and their Principal, “It's just...we never received a notice or a formal letter. Peter never came to the office to sign himself out with the notice, he just kept skipping school.”

“What your saying is that Peter’s word wasn't good enough so you punished him.” Tony clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose. “And now, he’s missing.”

“Mr. St-”

“I know for a fact that you got a notice because I sent one.” 

Which is an actual truth, he had FRIDAY fax over a memo to the school that Peter had been given an internship with him and would occasionally be called in during school hours or run late. Never did it occur to him that no one ever got it.  Is this what his Peter had to go through everyday? Did Peter have to endure the ridicule of not being believed? 

The darkness creeps along the edges of his vision and he can see it now, his sweet boy surrounded by all these jealous pretenders. These demons hungry to tear him down and rip off his wings. Parasites eager to reach for his boy’s tender, soft heart, and rend it into tiny pieces.

_ Calm down, Tony. _

He’s thankful for at least this time not having anything in his hands.

“If I’d known that the people here are so fucking incompetent as to lose a damn memo I’d have fired you and hired an entire staff myself.”

The man took a step back, his eyes widen in shock. But it only fueled Tony’s anger. 

_ How many of these faceless, worthless sheep took advantage of his Peter’s kindness?  How many of them laughed at his pain? How many of them wanted to mar his beauty with their hideous envy? _

“Sir, this language, this behavior is not permitted on school grounds.” 

Tony reached for his wrist, grasping it firmly to ground himself into the present. The pain edges him back to sanity. It takes all of his self-control not to utterly ruin every single person in this building in revenge on Peter’s behalf.

“Sir, Peter expressed to me that he was let go from your internship almost three weeks ago.”

_ Damn precious boy. _

Tony sighed, “I put Peter on a suspension because he was overworking himself. I thought he was trying to prove himself to me but honestly? I can see where Peter’s stress really lied. The environment here and the willingness to let anyone stroll on grounds is baffling. Disciplinary actions will be taken, Mr. Morita. You can count on that. You better be praying to whomever or whatever you believe in, because Peter was  _ your _ responsibility and he better be safe and sound when we find him.”

The principal, to Tony’s satisfaction, flinched under his glare and he moved past him heading down the hall towards the exit. It was time to move on. Those Spider bots were videotaping all of the interviews. Everything is working out so perfectly, he almost relaxes but he stays in character.  He won't relax until he’s safely away with his boy again.

 

**. . .**

Tony sipped his green smoothie and watched intently as he filed through the interviews the police had at Midtown. He’d really have to tell his boy how well those spider bots were not only for audio but for video surveillance as well. Most of the videos were of Peter’s classmates and were unimpressive and downright irritating to watch.

One of the boys, Eugene Thompson who insisted on being called Flash, was a arrogant and downright self-absorbed child. Tony had to guess he might be the one who bullied Peter but in the interview the kid was sincere in not knowing where Peter had gone when he left to go to the bathroom.

Ned, Peter’s friend acted like a pile of nerves like he was hiding something and was unsure if he could keep it a secret. Ned knew about Peter being Spider-Man and if the kid couldn’t keep his mouth shut then he was risking Peter’s identity. It was more dire for Peter to be secretive of his identity then ever. No one should know Peter was Spider-Man. Especially with those threats out there that could harm Peter.

_ He’s safe and sound, Tony. He’s completely fine. _

Tony took a deep breath through his nose and flipped onto the next interview of a sullen girl, looking completely annoyed that she was pulled from class.

_ “Okay, Michelle were you able to see what was on the text?” _

_ Michelle scrunched her eyebrows together and cocked her head slightly to the side, “Yes, because I physically took his phone and looked.”  _

Tony couldn’t help but smile. This was all too easy. He’d have to reward Peter when he saw him tonight before bed.

_ “He didn’t say who he was texting.” _

_ “Peter doesn’t say much when it’s about his personal life anymore.” _

_ “When did that start.” _

Michelle, Tony noticed hesitated and his pulse quickened. He really hoped that Peter didn’t make the mistake of telling this girl. Although, she did seem to be very observant in general. 

_ “Last year? After his uncle died. They were really close.” _

After that most of the conversation bounced back and forth and comes to this conclusion:

Peter was in the library with his team.

Flash and Peter were having a conversation. Which, according to Flash, they were just poking fun with each other and to everyone else on the decathlon team, Flash was bullying and harassing Peter. So of course Tony sided with the latter and will be discussing it with Peter later.

Peter got a text, but no one knew from who or what it said. Only that he had to go to the bathroom and then nothing.

That was it.

It was all too easy.

Tony waved the hologram video feed away and checked the time. It wasn’t too late and compared to the time zone, there’s a chance that Peter might’ve stumbled awake. 

He asked FRIDAY to start the call and sipped more of his drink.

“What are you doing, Peter?”

He watched the boy through the holographic screen. Peter was in the midst of trying and failing horribly at an attempt to do a handstand.

At the sound of Tony’s voice Peter gave a high pitched shriek and fell completely over. Tony winced at the horrible thunk Peter’s back made when he hit the floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tony asked, sighing out in frustration.

Peter whipped his head around, looking curiously around until he spotted Tony. His face was flushed and he looked absolutely furious with the man.

“Enjoying New York?” He croaked, swiping the sweat off his brow. “Having fun? Out there? In civilization? While you left me here, drugged by the way, with absolutely nothing to do! I can’t even get out of the house. I can’t get access to the kitchen-”

“ALT-4 didn’t give you lunch?” Tony interrupted, he knew the kid was just annoyed by the lack of access he had around the house.

“Yeah, he did.” Peter grumbled. “It’s weird you have a staff of androids hidden here. I can’t access their codes.” Peter stopped to chew at his fingernail, a nasty habit Tony knew he’d have to break the boy out of. “Karen won’t let me.” He added after a while still gnawing on the skin around his fingernail.

“Why would you need to access them, Peter?” Tony leaned in, tilting his head to the side, eyeing the boy down. Peter pulled his finger away from his mouth his eyes widening just a tad. His cheeks reddening as Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted more than just finger foods.” He lied, making Tony chuckle.

“We can have normal meals when I’m back, okay?”

Peter didn't respond, bringing his finger back to his mouth and started to chew. Tony sighed wanting nothing but to pull the boy’s fingers away from his mouth. They sat in silence until Tony took the plunge.

“Why are you playing human pretzel in the living room?” He noticed the table had been shoved on the opposite side of the room, “Make sure you move the coffee table back.”

He could just tell Peter was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Peter admitted, wiping away more sweat off his face. 

He glanced down at the floor like May had done earlier and Tony’s stomach clenched. He didn’t want to see Peter cry if he couldn’t reach out and wrap his arms around the boy. He couldn’t protect Peter if he was idly sitting here in his penthouse, pretending to be the great Tony Stark.

“I’m just trying to figure out everything the drug suppresses.” Peter said, rubbing at his nose.

Tony shook his head, of course he was, “you shouldn’t be playing games. Especially if you could hurt yourself.”

“There’s nothing to do here.” Peter whined.

Tony observed his boy. His curls were unruly and it seemed like it was hard for Peter to keep his eyes open.

“Why don’t you take a nap?” Tony suggested, rubbing his eyes. He felt he needed to doze off before he speaks with Peter’s aunt tonight.

“No.” Peter whined back, “I’m not sleeping anymore. That’s all I’ve done this past weekend, and I’m not doing that anymore.”

_ Fucking teenagers.  _ Tony thought irritably and ran a hand down his face. “Fine. I’ll be home soonish-“

“This isn’t  _ my  _ home, Mr. Stark.”

_ Fucking Peter. _

“Fine!” He hissed his blood boiling under his skin. If this kid had any idea of the shit he had to go through today. “There’s a game room upstairs, Karen will show you where it’s at. Go and occupy yourself. Do you want me to bring some pizza back?”

Peter bit his lip, contemplating what Tony had said then, “Okay, I’ll check it out. Yeah, double pepperoni, please?”

Tony smiled, letting out small chuckle, “Anything else?”

Peter thought for a good while, “Breadsticks, maybe? Soda?”

“I’ll think about it.” Tony said, already making a order for a later pickup.

Peter began to chatter away of the things he noticed he could and couldn’t do since the drugs have entered his system and Tony idly listened. Noticing as Peter comically waved his hands around, that Peter hadn’t once ask about how his aunt was doing or about how his friends were doing.

Was Peter still in a drugged stupor or was he finally coming around to Tony’s words? After all, Tony is just trying to protect his boy.

**. . .**

“This one is of Peter when he was probably around seven? Seven in a half?”

Tony took the picture from May’s hand and stared down at a bright doe eyed boy, smile cheesily in front of the camera with his round glasses and clutching a stuffed dog against his chest. 

Tony’s heart began to melt as he stared down at it lovingly as May settled in the sit next to him on the couch. She sat down a shoe box filled with pictures of Peter throughout the years. 

“I didn’t know Peter wore glasses.” Tony said, gently placing the picture back in shoe box and taking a small pile and began to shuffle through them.

“Oh, yeah.” May nodded, sipping on her tea. “Until about Sophomore year that’s when he decided to wear contacts and I could afford them.”

May set down her cup and bit into her lip. “I think I was too hard on him.”

Tony stopped looking through the pictures, turning to see her eyes water slightly, “May-” he started but she stopped him.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. When Ben was here,” She stopped sucked in a breath and continued, “He and I were a good team. A good match. Peter was so close to Ben. I can’t have children, and I think...I know when Peter came to stay with us, both Ben and I were finally going to have a baby. Peter was our baby, but when Ben died-”

She rubbed at her eyes, “I think, under the circumstances of how Ben died in this fucking city, it’s so dangerous, and I think I might’ve stressed Peter out. I just can’t lose him, Tony.”

Tony nodded, placing a hand on top of hers, “I promise you he’s going to be found and be okay, May.”

“I know. I can’t think of the worst. He’s going to okay. It’s just that I might’ve went overboard in his punishments. He doesn’t even have a door to his bedroom right now.”

Tony looked towards the small room and noticed the small worn out stuffed puppy against a well made bed.

“He was sneaking out, and not telling me where he was going. There were bruises and he just wouldn’t tell me the truth. Always telling me not to worry. I just snapped.” May explained. “It would make sense if he ran away.”

“May,” Tony said, turning his attention back onto the woman’s tear stained face, “Peter loves you very much. He wouldn’t run away because you took away his privileges and his door.”

She blinked and tears ran from her eyes as and she quickly wiped them away.

Tony stared down at his own mug of steaming tea and sighed, “Are you sure Peter wasn’t going to Avengers Tower? For the internship? My schedule team has a habit of not realizing Peter is still in school and shouldn’t be out at night. The school didn’t even believe Peter has a internship with me.”

“Has?” May looked confused, “Peter told me he lost the internship.”

Tony scrunched his eyebrows together, remembering the defiant boy on the roof and the heartbreak the boy had when Tony took the suit back.

“No, I put Peter on a suspension. Peter fell asleep in the labs one day and got all kinds of toxic chemicals on himself we had to do the whole chemical bath and sent him home in different clothes. I made sure someone sent a notice to you about it.”

May shrugged and looked confused.

_ Play it cool, Tony. _

Tony cursed, and shook his head, “I should’ve sent it myself. Peter just seemed really stressed and I couldn’t have him endangering himself and others around him in the labs. I think under the circumstances Peter was in, he might’ve misunderstood me.”

“Teenagers tend to do that.” May agreed, “That would make sense actually. He gets embarrassed easily.”

May didn’t have any clue of the context of how much Tony understood that.

“I think after Ben he’s gotten more and more anxious. I know I’m not helping with my own anxiety but-”

“Was there anything else going on with Peter that might’ve triggered the anxiety? Like more than his uncle?”

May looked uncomfortable for a moment like she was thinking about what Tony wanted her to share but only shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Of course, Tony knew this wasn’t something May was going to share to Tony off handedly but it still made his blood boil and he knew he would have to somehow coax it out of Peter at some point when they’d be together again.

**. . .**

“DUM-E up a bit. You know what? Forget it. I’ll do it.”

Tony gripped the tool and started to mold the metal to his liking. He could hear the ring of FRIDAY calling Peter once more.    
  
“What?” Peter’s voice rang around Tony’s workshop and Tony frowned, turning his head to the blank screen.

“Firstly, your tone. Curb the attitude you sullen teenager and secondly what are you doing?”

Tony could hear the rustle of sheets on the other side and smiled knowing that Peter actually did do what he had asked and took a nap.

“Nothing interesting.” Peter expressed and a loud groan escaped him as Tony imagined him stretching out his back.

“Well, sleeping beauty do you still want New York pizza?”

Tony smiled as he finished his project and went to grab the red suit hanging against the chair behind him.

“Yes please! Extra pepperoni.” Peter said, and Tony was pleased the boy’s appetite hadn’t gone away since the move.

Tony lifted the suit onto the form, draping it like a curtain and placed a mask over the top.

“Breadsticks and soda! Don’t forget the soda!” Peter said, expressing a small yawn through the speakers.

Tony smiled slightly and tapped the spider emblem on the suit and watched as his technology shrunk against the android and he walked back to admire his work. 

“Yeah,” He said, into the call, “I think I’ll remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! Special thanks to Spade_Storm for all her hard work and helping me so much with the story. She's so amazing and I'm thankful for her! Please leave your thoughts below! :)


	9. NINE

**NINE**

A stream of drool makes its way down his chin. The wetness causes a chill that wakes Peter from his daze. It was only supposed to be a few minutes of sleep. Just to close his eyes for a moment to contain the drowsiness he had felt after his chat with Mr. Stark. But Peter knew with how lethargic and numb he felt he had slept longer than what he had wanted.

He open his eyes peering into the dimly lit bedroom in a complete haze. He blinked a couple of times and let out a yawn. A stinging pain stopped him mid-way and he gingerly touched his cheek only to wince when his fingertips came into contact with slightly ripped skin.

Dark eyebrows furrowed together as Peter peered down at his fingertips. But was relieved to find no blood stained there. 

_ Why would it hurt? _

He supposed he could’ve scratched himself in his sleep again. The last time he’d done that Uncle Ben was still alive.  Peter may have nightmares now, but nothing like what he used too. 

Peter ran his fingers across the bedspread and blankets to inspect anything that he could’ve use to scratch himself with by accident or rubbed against but he was only met with soft silk and warm comforters. They called to him, luring him to lay his head down again, his thoughts still concerned for the scratch but didn’t mind to worry about it later. His eyes shut closed and he falls back into a deep slumber.

Not too long after he falls deep into sleep, Peter is pulled towards consciousness by a sound. A door slamming shut from somewhere below him. He’s eyes open slightly as the haze still clouds his vision and he rolled to his side, wishing to sleep away the lethargic feeling and the stinging on his face.

“Peter?!”

His name is called, muffled by the layers of the house and the person calling his name being so far away. His mouth moves against the pillow, muffling out sounds as he mumbles against the satin cover. The comfort he feels as he snuggled closer into the blankets was driving him back into his dreams. 

He positions his leg to curl closer to the warm center and his bladder taunted him just as he gets comfortable. He groaned out at his luck and hears his name being called again.

He ignores it just the same and began to roll again shifting himself out of his warm cocoon. His stinging cheek rubs against the pillow and he hisses out at the pain.

He kicked out his feet meeting the coolness of the room compared to his nest of sheets that kept the chill away.

With his eyes shut he begins to rub at his eyes not daring to lift himself upward out of sheer laziness and exhaustion.

Why was he still so tired?

He could hear hurried footsteps just outside the door and a familiar voice calling out to him, but he barely gets a word out when the bedroom door is swung open.

“Kid, when I call your name I expect you to answer me.”

Peter knew that voice but opening up his eyes as he rolled his head toward the door. He only could find a blurry outline of a man from the from the lighted hallway.

Quickly Peter tried again to rub the haze from his eyes. A lick of fear not only from Mr. Stark being back but the fact that he might be losing his vision like before the bite. He already lost so much of his abilities. If he couldn’t see…

“Hey, I’m talking to you. What’s a matter?”

Peter tried to respond only his words don’t form anything remotely understandable. Mr. Stark questions him again and Peter only lulled his head backwards and rubbed at them again. Once Peter sees dots dancing behind his eyes his opened them again towards the blob that is Mr. Stark. He needs to be able to see his mentor. 

His kidnapper.

Peter blinked a few times, his vision getting better with each time his closes his eyes. The haze slowly lifting but it wasn’t quick enough, and with a short flick of the light switch, the haze is back. Peter has to shut his eyes quickly and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed lids.

Peter heard the footsteps. Heard the agitated sigh, the tension in the room rising like a tide. Only Peter didn’t think Mr. Stark would force his hands around his upper arms and hold it tightly in his grasp. So when it happened, he let out a choked cry and whimpered at the harsh grip. Peter knew that when the man was in a moment of rage any idea Peter had about mentioning his new, and terrifying, restrictions went out the window.

“What happened?” It’s asked in a low whisper, sending chills up Peter’s spine.

“W’at?” He tried, cringing when the grip tightened.

“Peter.”

Peter carefully pried his eyes open, blinking a few times anything to get rid of the fog. It gets slightly better and honestly when he gets a good look of Mr. Stark, he almost wished he hadn’t.

Mr. Stark was close, too close. His eyes dark with so much anger and disappointment that it made Peter squirm in the man’s grip. Which in turn Mr. Stark gripped tighter. Peter couldn’t believe how unhinged the man looked. Granted he could only see part of the man. Most of him was still clouded in a haze from Peter’s vision being totally wrecked again. Or from a long drowsy and drugged sleep.

Regardless of this, Peter knew it would only take one wrong move to push Mr. Stark over the edge but he didn’t know what kind of push would do it and he doesn’t want to find out.

So, Peter decided to keep his mouth shut.

But he was learning it didn’t matter what he would do. He was always going to be wrong.

“Well?” Mr. Stark growled, shaking him a little after Peter remained silent. “I’m not asking again.”

“Okay, fine. Fin-” Peter stopped a sigh escaping as he tried to reach his face to rub his eyes. Only Mr. Stark grabbed hold both of his wrists and shoved them down into Peter’s lap. 

“Explain this.” Mr. Stark said, moving Peter’s jaw forcibly to the side with his free hand and traced the scratches across Peter’s cheek.

“I don’t- I need. Wait-” Peter babbled, still trying to reach his hands upward to scratch at his eyes.

He heard the man curse out, annoyed by the lack of confession from Peter and practically hurls him towards his chest. Peter gasped out trying to lean back into bed, but Mr. Stark was stronger and has to drag him into the bathroom.

A few stumbles and yelps later, Mr. Stark pulled Peter towards the mirror still holding both of his wrist in one hand and the other, gripping his chin harshly and forcibly turning Peter’s face towards the mirror.

Even through the haze Peter can tell the mess he is in. There’s a mess of unkempt curls at the top of Peter’s head with his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. He can tell the scratches start at the middle of his cheek and end slightly down towards the side of his neck. A small amount of dried blood sticks just around the wound, but Peter’s had worse. This isn't as deep as he first thought either. This will probably heal on its own and it won’t leave a mark.

“Oh.” he admitted, sniffing back the wetness in his nose.

“ _ Oh _ ?” Mr. Stark mimicked, “Is that really all you can say?”

The tone is one Peter’s never heard before, low and throaty, with every word pulled from gritted teeth. Like a animal ready to attack its prey.

To Peter, it felt like he was backed up against a wall.

“It’s happened before!” Peter blurted out, then squirmed in the man’s hold, “I think I just scratched myself in my sleep. I didn’t mean to do it.”

Through the mirror glossed over in a haze, Mr. Stark’s dark eyes sharpened as he stared back at Peter.

“Are you lying to me?” 

The man took hold of Peter’s chin and forced him to look the man in the eye again, “Are you serious that you did this in your sleep?”

_ He thinks I did this to myself. On purpose.  _

Peter stared at the man in disbelief. He never even thought of something like that. Regardless of what had happened in his past. The thought had never crossed his mind to do so.

“Well?”

With wide eyes Peter licked his lips and responded with, “No, no, I’m not, I’m not lying.” He  started to breathe heavily because if Mr. Stark thought he was lying, what would he do? He already touched Peter without his consent. What else would this mad man do?

“I- it used to happen a lot after-” He stopped and swallowed down a lump, “After things happened in my life. Back when Uncle Ben was here. I just did it in my sleep sometimes. I never have- I wouldn’t- It was just a accident!”

_ Why do I have to explain this to him? _

The expression that comes over the other man’s face is something he’s never seen before.  He can’t decipher it. It’s too complicated for him to know even half of what Mr. Stark’s thinking.  It was like the man was fighting on sorrow and relief.

“We’ll cut your nails down for now.”

“What?” Peter asked, looking at his currently short fingernails, flexing them out to see his right hand and notice the small amount of blood under some of his fingernails.

“I’m going to have you start working in the lab soon. And what if you’re not careful and some chemicals get under your nails? You could get sick, seriously sick.” Mr. Stark stopped, as Peter tried pull from the man’s grip. “No, for now, we’ll cut your nails and work on your scratching as we go.”

“You can’t-” Peter stopped and blinked again, “You can’t be. You’re serious about this?”

“I am.” Was the man’s short reply.

Peter gaped at the older man, as Mr. Stark maneuvers him around and sets him down on the toilet seat. Then sets forth on pulling out a pack from the cabinet. There are nail clippers in side next to tweezers and numerous other grooming tools and Peter blinked again. The haze coming close to going away.

Peter watched as Mr. Stark pulled out the clippers and set the bag on the bathroom counter and Peter let out a groan.

_ This cannot be happening.   _ He thinks pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a few moments.

“Don’t fight me.” the man’s voice is close as he took hold of Peter’s wrist and pulled it close to himself to inspect.

But Peter wanted to fight. So badly he wanted to scream and yell. Wanted this haze from his vision to go away. Wanted to push Mr. Stark backward, but he doesn’t. He stays still as Mr. Stark takes the clippers to his nail and begins his work.

“My vision’s been acting up. Since I got up.” He admitted, after Mr. Stark started on Peter’s middle finger.

Something in Peter is glad that he’s low key flipping the man off right now.

“Is that why you’ve been rubbing at them nonstop and blinking like crazy?” Mr. Stark asked, finishing up one hand and grabbing the other.

“Yeah.” Peter responded, trying hard not to add in a sarcastic,  _ obviously. _

They sit in silence for awhile as the older man finishes up his work with Peter’s nails. Mr. Stark breaks it by saying, “I’m going to clean the cuts on your face. Then I’ll take a look at your eyes. I’m guessing with how red they are you might need some drops in them.”

Peter cringed at the thought of Mr. Stark having to force his eyes open to get the drops in.

“Do you think it’s because of the shots you’re giving me? A side effect?” 

If Peter could find any excuse to get the man to stop with the injections. Give his body a chance to recover. A chance to escape his nightmare.

Mr. Stark doesn’t answer him, only goes towards the cabinet and pulls out more tools to fix Peter’s problems. It honestly just made Peter more upset.   
  
“Mr. Stark, am I going to need glasses again?”

Peter could see the man roll his eyes in the mirror and look down at Peter with a blatant expression.    
  
“No, you’re fine. You’re going to be fine. Just let me take care of you, okay? Afterwards you can use the restroom and you can wash your hands for dinner. Can you do that for me?” Mr. Stark asks and before Peter can respond he adds, “Would that be so difficult?”

Peter bit down his reply, he’s stomach twisting. He had no idea how he’d survive with this man, but he knew that he had to try. He had to bide his time until he had enough strength to find a way out.

“No, sir.” Peter tried not to cringe as he looked up towards Mr. Stark. “It wouldn’t be difficult at all.”

 

**000**

Peter laid against the plump pillows settled comfortably against the couch. He’s foot still pulsating with pain, but he completely ignores it. He knew Mr. Stark already doted on him with basic needs and wants, and honestly he wanted to continue to feel this pain. Peter hardly wanted to add on to more non-consensual touches. If anything proved with his now blunt nails, it didn’t matter to Mr. Stark if Peter didn’t want certain touches or to be forced into situations, he can do whatever he wants.

If the great Tony Stark wanted something done. He’d get it done.

It was funny how in the past if Peter had any contact with Mr. Stark or needlessly saw something in passing about the man, his stomach would flutter with excitement. Now with Mr. Stark coming into view, all he feels is a undeniable dread like his stomach blossoming in pure panic. This man, once hero in Peter’s world turned into a toxin. A poison that Peter has to keep swallowing to survive. 

Couldn’t the man see the fear in Peter’s eyes? Couldn’t he tell that Peter was lost to this situation. That leaving him in the dark just added more fear? Did the man even care?

“You alright, Peter?” 

Peter blinked, clearing his mind as he watched Mr. Stark lean down to place the pizza boxes down on top of the coffee table.

“I’m fine.” Peter said, trying his best to sound normal, even adding a slight smile at the man. Even trying to seem like everything was okay was pathetic.

Mr. Stark grimaced, but didn’t pester him which Peter was thankful for. He watched as Mr. Stark opens the box, steam rising from the pizza, thin crust with extra cheese and pepperoni.

_ He remembered me saying how much I don’t like too much bread. _

Peter’s mouth salivates when the smell hits his nose. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s famished. This was a dinner that Aunt May and he would have on a weekend. This reminds him of home.

_ Shit!  _ Peter thinks as he adjusts his sitting. The pressure building from his chest and stinging in his eyes catches him off guard. He’s irritated with himself for thinking of Aunt May.  He knows he can’t do this, especially in front of Mr. Stark. He already cried earlier today in private. He didn’t need the man’s attention on him for this. He had to keep strong. There was already too much he let slip and that will only cause problems later. Peter didn’t want to add just how much he cries when provoked to this situation. He couldn’t.

“New York’s finest. Enjoy, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” Peter said, reaching forward to grab a slice but stops when Mr. Stark raises his open palm to him.

“No, no. I got it, Peter. Let me.”

Peter retracts his hand and focuses at the curve of the table, biting down hard to stop the words from bubbling into the open air. 

_ Just let him do whatever if it makes him happy. _

“Here,” Mr. Stark said, sliding a plate full of food to Peter. The cheese melted on the pizza slipped over the sides and glistened with spots of grease.

_ You could just say you’re not hungry. Don’t eat his precious food that he got for you. _

It’s tempting how Peter could fight against the man. Add small but potent rebuttals, but where will that put him? Back to square one. He lifted the slice of pizza to his mouth as his mouth watered and took the first bite.

It was phenomenal. The hunger he didn’t even realize he had threw him forward as he finished off the food on his plate. Not even noticing Mr. Stark move to sit beside him. His presence was known, but Peter hadn’t paid much attention until the man’s hand began to ruffle through his hair.

“Can you please stop?” Peter asked, ducking his head to move under the man’s touch. The couch might be large but there was only so far Peter could go with the pillows placed against his back.

“I forgot.” Mr. Stark said, moving his hand back a slight grimace turn down his lips.

“Please, just, it’s going to take a while. If that’s okay?”

_ Just be kind. Mr. Stark responds semi-normally with kindness. _

They’re silent for a while as Peter continued to eat, helping himself to seconds. As Mr. Stark merely sips his soda. If there was soda in there. Most likely some kind of booze. Peter’s stomach churns at the thought of dealing with a drunk Mr. Stark. Dealing with him now was putting Peter on edge. He didn’t want to have to worry about how the effects of alcohol would change the already broken man.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” Tony said, leaving Peter in slight confusion as he bounded out of the room.

The silence and not having the overbearing weight of Mr. Stark leaves Peter to relax against the pillows again. His eating slowed down as he just takes in having a moment to himself. Not that it lasts for very long.

Mr. Stark comes back with a robot resembling DUM-E but with a bed platform on wheels. That steel bed is stacked with wrapped boxes each neatly tied with a bow. 

They’re all different sizes but stacked in a appealing way. Peter shifts uncomfortably, placing his plate on the coffee table and placed his hands on his knees. He didn’t know what Mr. Stark was doing though his thoughts raced down a dark theme.

What if with any pressing question Mr. Stark asks, he rewards me with a gift like some sick operant conditioning. Mr. Stark takes a small box from the top pile and places it next to Peter. He soon takes his seat again and leans over his fingers outstretched.

Peter immediately jerks his head out of the way, seeing the disappointment flash on Mr. Stark’s face just as quickly. The man smiled then said, “You may need a haircut soon.”

Peter shot a hand towards his head, tucking a curly strand of hair behind his ear. He knew the man was right. Anytime he sees himself in the mirror his hair resembled frizzy sheep’s wool.

“You’re aunt’s doing okay.”

“Really?” Peter stopped mid-way of reaching for his soda to turn his focus on Mr. Stark.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark smiled, “I have Happy keeping an eye on her. Going to keep her company. I think they planned on going to the farmer’s market this weekend. Can’t have her cooped up in that apartment forever.”

“The, the farmers market?” Not only did Peter felt the unease at how Mr. Stark was playing his aunt but it also left him with a sense of dread. He knew they couldn’t afford things from the market that place was crazy expensive.

“I insisted.”  Mr. Stark said, as if he could hear Peter’s thoughts and takes a gulp of his drink.  “She really doesn’t need to worry, but it's best if no one suspects her of foul play.”

“You mean, like, as if, if, she had a part in this?”

_ Why in the world would anyone- _

“Exactly. Plausible deniability.” Mr. Stark gives Peter a smile, soft and caring. “The last thing I want is for your aunt to get in trouble.”

“Why would she?” Peter asked, setting his plate down. It takes almost everything for him not to glare at the man.

Mr. Stark mockingly shrugs, a minor act that Peter wants to hit the man upside the head for. If anyone was going to get in trouble or face punishment it was Mr. Stark. Peter would make sure of that.

“I also went to your school.” 

He smiles at Peter, it’s a soft curl of his lips that Peter has seen before but it’s also different. It was heavier now. More intense. Almost like Mr. Stark was waiting for Peter to tell him something about his school. Trouble was, there wasn’t anything to elaborate on. 

“Okay?”

Peter looked back at the pizza still steaming from the box and the countless of boxes. His thoughts racing on what the man possible would’ve done there. If he saw Ned and spoke with him. Peter loved Ned but he had to admit his friend wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. Especially with a man like Tony Stark.

“Yeah, I meet with some of your classmates. At least I think.” Mr. Stark said, leaning behind himself to turn on the diffuser. Peter watches the first puffs wraft into the air. It sends a shot of anger to go rushing through him.

“Do you have to turn that on?” He asked, shifting to the edge of the couch, glaring at the man.

“What?” Mr. Stark shrugged, ”“You don’t want the place to smell like lingering garlic do you?”

Peter’s eyes squint darkly, “Well, at least the food smell isn’t going to make me a loopy pile of goo in five minutes.”

“It’s not going to,” Mr. Stark said, playing on his phone and setting it on top of the table. The holographic screen opens from his phone and a picture of Ned’s cheeky grin from his social media profile pops up. “It’s only going to make us relaxed.”

“You mean it’s going to make  _ me _ relaxed.”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes getting his own share of pizza, “Don’t start, Peter. Let’s just talk okay? That’s all I ask.”

“Then turn off the scent.” Peter said, that haze coming back. It’s not as potent as had been before. It doesn’t make him dizzy or tired. It only makes him relax. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s nice to not feel anything. No anger or anxiety, just this sensation of serene calm. 

“You’re fine, okay?” Mr. Stark said, “Can you point out who you’re friends with? Who you burrow noted from? Anyone you’ve spent time with, even for a group project, so I can make sure they're safe, too.”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched together as he moved his head back against the pillows, “They’re not safe?”

“They might be. I just want to cover all my bases. I’ve got Ned taken care of and I’m not too sure on the girl, MJ? I need your input. I just mentioned these two to the police so no one gets any ideas. If anything does happen to them, people would notice and that kind of attention is the kind that a lot of people don't want. The ones that do, I can take care of pretty easily.”

Confusion still wrapped Peter up in a blanket, but he nodded his head telling him “Okay.” 

In all honestly only half of what Mr. Stark said made any sense. But that was a constant issue,  lately Peter wasn’t sure what the man wanted or was getting at. He looks at the pictures and does not recognize the first few, letting the pictures scroll up until a girl with blonde hair comes into view, “That’s Betty Brant. She’s in the same grade as me.”

The girl who’s friends with Liz.

It goes on like this Peter racking his brain if half of the many face were people he knew or just a random passing. Until a picture of Flash Thompson shows on the screen and it made Peter stop.

“I know him.”

“How?” Mr. Stark asked, zooming in on Flash’s profile.

“I just do.” Peter said, tucking his uninjured foot underneath him to get more comfortable.

“Is he someone on your decathlon team?”

“Yeah.” Peter shrugged, blocking out Flash’s taunts and mocking.

“Is he nice to you?”

Peter knits his eyebrows together. It just seemed like Mr. Stark’s questions were more to pry than genuine concern.

“He’s fine.” Peter said, getting a sip of his soda. The fizz burning down his throat, causing him to cough out.

“This boy never was mean to you?”

_ If he already knows why is he asking me like this? Why does everything have to be a game. _

“I don’t know, he teases me sometimes.”

“Why does he tease you?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter couldn’t handle this anymore he started to move to sit somewhere else. Just to get far away from him. It’s a way to end this conversation.

Peter missed the hard look that came over Mr. Stark’s face or the anger the man has as he looks again at Flash’s photo. Until, Mr. Stark reached over and clamps down on Peter’s knee. A warning to have Peter stay in his place.

“That’s fine Peter. It’s okay. Just know that you can talk to me okay?” Mr. Stark lessens his grip and pats his knee. “Is it okay if I give you a hug, Peter? You look like you need one.”

Peter let out a sigh, he wants to say no, but he also knows the man would persist, and it doesn’t help the strong smell that surrounds the room now. He licked his lips, rubbing at his eye as he said, “I don’t care.” 

It’s not like his aunt’s, soft and warm. Mr. Stark’s hug is more fierce and unyielding, like a trap.  The older man’s hands are heavy and hot against his skin. He’s never had this kind of hug before. He’s afraid of what kind of hug this is, strong and warm, uncompromising but dangerous. Peter doesn’t want to think what this means, what any of it might mean, because it feels almost like, like-

Tony pushes Peter’s face toward his neck and collar, where the cologne is strongest. Peter wants to push back but lays there lazily. The man waits only a few seconds before Peter turns boneless in his arms, inhaling and nuzzling closer to him for comfort.

“I’m here now, Peter.” Tony promises. “No one will hurt you.  No one will ever hurt you with me around. But you have to tell me the truth, alright, sweetheart?”

“Mmmh.” The lethargic response is not surprising, he made the scent a bit stronger this time, since Peter fought it so hard last time. Last time where they were in bed together. His panic attack that ended with him telling Mr. Stark about his trauma. 

“You just have to tell me the truth. That’s all you have to do.”

_ It’s a simple request, Peter. _

Only Peter knows it’s not. Not something he wants to admit out loud. Too many things have happened in such a short amount of time. This was all too much. It causes Peter to lift the heel of his injured foot up slightly off the floor, to avoid alerting Mr. Stark. Then he presses it back down, using the pressure to send tendrils of pain through him. This wasn’t the same effect as the scent that forced him to be calm. This was an organic calm. Something that brought Peter back to himself. Something to keep him from going insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is crazy, but I didn't think it was going to take a turn this badly for me. I'm so sorry for such a long hiatus. I hope I can come back with regular updates. I've even ventured out and started writing other things as well with Starker. If anyone is interested? I've leave a link here. :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754336/chapters/44489017

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? How should I continue? How dark will this story go? Also, leave suggestions! I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)


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